Sonora
by atrish1
Summary: 12-REPOSTED Sonora, mafia princess snags the boys in a twisted web of revenge and obsession. The boy's friendship must endure kidnapping, mind control, aberrant matrimonylots of angst in a kinda surreal fairytale some original characters come to the rescu
1. Chapter 1

Ok-- I can't stand it any more-- I'm just gonna start posting this:

(This story is a completed work. But, I'll be posting it in chapters, as I do need to make some final corrections here and there.)

Disclaimer:

Got it-- they don't belong to me—unfortunately. And, of course, I'm not making any money by telling these stories about them.

_Thank Yous & Much Gratitude to:Kate & Robbin Laffoon for showing me where all the sinkholes and unbelievable plot threads were—told me I should fix them—so I did—or tried to anyway._

_Robbin L. aka Midwife— She was the first to hear baby Sonora was coming and she made sure I got the right nutrition to carry her the whole nine (really more like 13 months of writing). Gave me spiritual support, inspiration, and encouragement. Coached me to keep on pushing…_

_Kate aka- Teacher(Sensei) & mother of many, many stories let me peek in the writer's secret book of rules and showed me how to write life into my baby, how to add flesh, breath & heart… Her gentle guidance taught me how to get the formula just right-- so baby could grow strong bones._

_Donna Engle aka Nanny(Caretaker)- Specially trained to care for my baby. Her beta skills taught Sonora the proper social etiquette— expounded the importance of correct punctuation, and how to wear her commas, hyphens just so… And for showing me grace and giving me so much of her time._

-To some, the comparison to the precious act of giving birth may seem silly. I can only tell you how I feel ---- so you guys treat my baby right now.

-Look I'm not saying you can't offer her some guidance, or direction …wise words about what it's like to be in the world. She's strong enough to handle all the feedback—good or bad… But just remember lots of love made her and lots of love will keep her.

Thanks for reading.

-Any typos or other nonsense are all my doing-

-ooooooo-

**Sonora**

(A Starsky and Hutch Tale)

By

Trish P. Kennedy

-oooooo-

Prologue

He was in his usual place- watching over the man in the bed just like all the other nights before. Waiting for the fitfully sleeping man to force his eyes open from one of the many nightmares that constantly persisted-never leaving him alone.

Starsky sat patiently, worried about the moment Hutch would be able to wake himself up- -once again afraid and disoriented. He waited through the tossing and turning, the mumbled words…beads of sweat shimmering in the golden wisps of hair plastered as a frame around Hutch's face in the brightly-lit room.

Starsky picked up his friend's hand. When it was like this, Starsky found he was not able to stir, shake, or talk him into wakefulness. So he waited.

The dutiful friend also watched the little white clock on the dresser. It was 2 a.m. and Hutch had fallen asleep around 10 p.m. The nightmare cycle usually started around 12:30 a.m. and Starsky would take his regular position in the chair next to the bed.

Waiting, watching, and guarding.

He looked down to find the restless man's eyes were open. No words were exchanged. Trying to calm his breathing, Hutch made a frustrated sad moan. Starsky knew his best friend was trying to reconcile, once again, why he was waking up as the victim- feeling guilty about letting it happen again. An illogical conclusion in Starsky's opinion, but he had not been able to convince Hutch of that.

"Which one was it?" Starsky asked.

Hutch squeezed his eyes shut, a hiss of tension escaped from him as he tried to stop the quickening of the breaths that threatened to make him lose control of the volcanic emotions fueling them.

"Does it matter?" Hutch managed to say weakly, pulling Starsky's hand to his chest as if it were armor to protect him.

"It's all right," Starsky whispered, thinking his own haggard appearance might not add credence to the hollow words. He wondered how realistic the statement was --he hadn't had any real sleep in days.

Tears welled in Hutch's eyes as he struggled to speak. Suspended by his friend's haunted expression, Starsky was determined to reassure him he'd do _everything_ in his power to protect him.

"SSShh. S'okay. I'm right here. Nobody knows where we are. Not Dobey. Not Huggy. Not…not anybody."

Even though they were said with conviction, Starsky got little comfort from his own words. He was sure that some day _she_ would be back.

He was certain of it.

Coming back to get what Starsky had taken from her.

-oooooooo-

The Couple

"You must be cold out here," she said as she tucked a blanket around her husband. Fitting herself into his lap, she wrapped her arms around him, asking, "Another headache?"

He looked down at her and gave a weak smile. "Better now."

Putting a hand to his temple, she started a gentle massage. "Close your eyes. I'll bring you a pill in a few minutes and you can rest out here until dinner. I think the fresh air will do you good."

"Hmmm," he agreed tiredly. "You take such good care me. How could one man be so lucky?" He gave her a long loving stare and kissed her softly on her forehead. Resting his head on her cheek, he whispered in her ear, "I love you, Sonora. Don't know what I would do…"

"Shhh," putting a finger to his lips, she said, "You'll never have to worry about that. This is forever, isn't it, Ken?"

-ooooooo-

The Story

_Beautiful but deadly_. Words both law enforcement and the criminally minded used to describe her.

Watching Hutch's body jerk violently beneath the currents of electricity she pumped into him was making Starsky wish he had paid more attention to the _last _part of that description

The question posed by many had been answered. Yes, Daddy's little girl was going to be a success as heir to the empire built on bodies of the slaughtered by her international mob boss father.

She was qualified. More than capable to champion the fight of the dark criminal underworld against anything that stood in her way. Right now _that anything_ was two cops from Bay City.

It wasn't that she really wanted the name of the snitch she believed was in Starsky's and Hutch's possession. The person, recruited to help bring down her evil empire had served up family secrets--- had laid bare enough information to get two undercover cops this close to her.

Starsky knew _that_ whoever that person was- they were probably already on the bottom of several oceans, in different continents.

She was the beautiful Sonora Latrielle. The long black curls bounced as she moved back and forth in front of Hutch. She was deadly and she had them cold. Their hostess had slipped a little something extra into the goblets of wine she served to the two cops who had unfortunately accepted the invitation to attend a party at her palatial home. Drugging them both, she made the officers the two newest residents of her in-home torture chamber. Her huge ethereal, dark brown eyes peeking through lush black eyelashes and the natural healthy glow of her olive-toned skin seemed completely out of place in the dank room that had kept him and Hutch captive for the last 16 hours.

Sonora Latrielle was petite. Voluptuous curves, pleasing to a man's imagination, kindled a supernatural power in her that seemingly burned up the oxygen in a room. It was the reason why men's tongues got twisted when she stood close by. They became light headed, intoxicated by her very presence. And she knew it. She was dangerous.

Most women, sensing her noxious nature, stayed clear of the man-eating vixen.

Her allure was long lost on Starsky. All he could see of her was her cruelty and the heartless pleasure she got out of the impossible challenge that was killing Hutch.

They had walked into a trap. When you're a cop, part of you, in doing this kind of work, has to recognize that someday something goes down you don't walk away from. Someone could put a bullet in the back of your head- and no one would ever find out what happened to you.

Many a bad guy treated that end of the road moment for the good guy with a peculiar kind of honor.

_Take 'em out and shoot them, dump their bodies. A quick death._

But, Sonora wanted to play a bizarre game, eliciting some kind of strange enjoyment out of it.

Starsky thought back to last night and the odd feeling that gnawed at him as they'd driven up the long driveway to the Latrielle estate and to the old fashioned castle that looked ominously back at them.

Under different circumstances, Starsky could have found the old castle fascinating… but last night it brought up a dull fear in him.

Hutch must have picked up on his friend's uneasiness, taking a hand off the steering wheel, he'd punched Starsky, lightly joking.

"Looks like Dr. Frankenstein's, huh."

Starsky swallowed hard thinking back to Sonora's massive bodyguard nicknamed "The Monster." The man was 350 pounds of muscle, nearly 7 ft. Starsky thought the Frankenstein of Hutch's attempted joke was a reality. He didn't want to have to tangle with the man.

"Hutch, somethin' don't feel right."

"That's why we gotta be on point, partner. They don't know who they're messing with. Right?" Hutch said with a warm smile meant to ease Starsky's concern.

"Yeah," Starsky said, letting his hand rest on his holstered gun. "I'm with ya."

The décor inside the huge, nearly century old fortress almost made Starsky relax completely. Beautiful bright earth colors, modern furniture, lots of greenery and fresh flowers celebrating life gave the huge hardwooded rooms warmth.

There were about thirty other people milling around chatting excitedly and bluesy jazz music helped to contribute to the nice energy in the room.

Hutch felt a hand on his arm and he turned to find Sonora Latrielle standing beside him. The petite woman who had invited them to the small get-together at her home smiled up at him generously.

Ms. Latrielle, Hutch thought, was definitely a looker. Beautiful and hiding secrets behind the almost black beguiling eyes that could do some damage to a guy's heart if he wasn't careful.

But Hutch already knew all about the criminal universe she cloaked behind the life of a self-absorbed socialite. It was a good disguise for the daughter of an underworld crime boss who had followed in her father's footsteps. It was all an act. All of it, except for the self-absorbed part. That was all Sonora, Hutch deduced, looking down at the spirited woman he found standing in his personal space.

"Hello," she said, sending him a piercing stare.

Hutch responded with penetrating inspection.

It was Starsky echoing, "Hello," that broke up the staring contest between them.

Ignoring Starsky, Sonora said to his companion, "I'm so glad you made it."

"Well, wasn't that hard to find actually. It's the only castle in town. Right?"

"Right," she confirmed, smiling at him and allowing an uncomfortable silence as she studied him. "You know, I just can't get over the feeling that maybe you know me? Have we met before this evening?"

Playing along, Hutch answered, "I think we both would have remembered that, don't you?"

Starsky started to roll his eyes but stopped himself just as Sonora looked at him.

Finally, acknowledging Starsky she said to him, "I like your friend. Maybe you've noticed."

"I would have to be blind not to," Starsky smirked.

"Can you just give us a few minutes flirting time? Plenty of food," she said to Starsky as she pointed a hand toward the grand buffet a few yards away.

"Sure. It's… ahh…_quite a spread_." Giving Hutch a mischievous look, he sauntered away.

Hutch winced and looked back to her.

"I'm sorry," he apologized for Starsky's risqué comment.

"I'd love to get some air. You?" Sonora suggested, leading him out toward the terrace before he could answer.

Hutch felt uncomfortable. He didn't like separating himself from Starsky so soon. They weren't sure how the Latrielle organization worked yet. What did Sonora want from them? Was it safe? What kind of game was she playing and why was she bringing them in so close so quickly?

Hutch looked back into the large room they had just left expecting to see Starsky in full pig-out mode but instead was surprised to find his partner cautiously eyeing them.

"You and your friend seem a little out of place. Here, it's either old money or new. Don't believe you two fall into either one of those categories," Sonora said.

Hutch let Starsky's cautious watching go as he turned to answer her.

"No. I'm just a man looking for the right opportunity," he countered, giving her an easy palms up gesture. "You could say I'm hoping to make the right connections."

The curious timing of a hauntingly romantic song seeping from the speakers above them, an old Van Morrison tune, permeated the air. The singer's mournful lament of love lost and found created a dramatic backdrop, generating amused glances between them.

"Oh, I'm definitely interested in making a connection." She shortened the distance between them, resting her hand on his chest as she moved in closer. She breathed him in deeply and sighed sensually. "I really do believe we've met before. Maybe…_New Orleans_?"

Gently lifting her hand away, he held it in his. "No, unfortunately, don't think so," he said as he let her hand drop. "Hmmm." then adding a little vibrato to highlight his voice, making sure she knew he was turning her down. "I think I'd like to take a turn at some of the other delicacies you've got…in there," nodding to the buffet table.

He slipped an arm around her waist and attempted to lead her back inside.

She stopped their movement.

Hutch could see angry lines forming on her forehead.

"Give me a kiss first," she demanded.

"_What_?" Hutch answered in surprise.

"It's only fair. You accepted my invitation to come out here. You knew my intention. I promise I won't bite," she purred.

"I…" Hutch stammered.

She put an arm around his neck and pulled his head down. It was a standoff as Hutch hesitated. She closed her eyes and lifted her lips to him.

Gliding both her arms up his back, she gently urged him forward.

Hutch wanted to release himself and push pass her. He knew this was some type of power play but didn't know enough about her to figure out what next move would give him the best advantage. She was bewitching and it would have been easy enough to let her kiss him or to lift her up in his arms, taking full advantage of the situation, and maybe curl her toes in the process.

But Sonora wasn't just a spoiled brat, she was a very dangerous woman, who he needed to get to quickly. Realizing, at that instant, the best way to get under her skin, he eased out of her arms.

He picked up his sentence again. "I-I really should get back to my friend. He's not that sociable." He left her there and reentered the party.

Leaving Sonora alone on the balcony got the exact result Hutch was going for.

She was livid.

Who did he think he was embarrassing her in front of her guests she thought? He had to be aware people were watching. Abandoning her out there alone like that was going to get tongues wagging with all kinds of gossip. Her advances obviously rejected. This was outrageous! He had no right coming into her home and trying to make a fool out of her in front of her friends, people who respected her…who were afraid of her.

"M!" Using her nickname for the "The Monster," she called out to the massive bodyguard who was hiding nearby on the overgrown terrace.

"Miss?"

"Let's do it tonight," she said acrimoniously.

"I'm not sure…" M protested.

Cutting off his excuse, "Tonight!" she said emphatically as she turned her back to him to look into the room, watching the man who had rejected her advances through the window.

"You shouldn't have done that, Detective Hutchinson," she said to herself. "You're going to be very sorry."

It was a long and pathetic story why she didn't like cops.

The story had something to do with why she now was an only child and the abbreviated life of a rebellious sister dating a tall blond cop to get under a father's skin.

A sister, who ended up married to the cop, and spent years on the receiving end of his abusive fist until committing suicide on the night of their fifth wedding anniversary.

It was at that time that the husband, who had been hiding from the wrath of Zak Latrielle behind her sister's skirts, disappeared from the face of the earth. Sonora always dreamed- prayed- that her father was the source of Matty Tremaine's vanishing act.

Matty, _handsome, tall, blonde_ and All-American had courted her six years older sibling with flowers and sweet talk. All lies.

Her sister, Celina, named for their paternal grandmother, had been dead for years, but Sonora's violent fantasies of revenge stayed with her into adulthood.

Sonora had kept the secret, for years watching the abuse steal beauty and youth from the person Sonora loved more than anyone in the world.

She watched after each beating how Celina would try to cover and conceal with makeup the evidence of her private hell.

She learned to hate the husband who put on a loving act in front of others as he terrorized Celina behind closed doors. The younger woman also learned a lot about men, and about cops. The good guys… bull!

Sonora wasn't naïve about relationships, men, and macho obsession. Something in her wanted to believe there was a knight in shining armor for every woman. Her sister'slife had taught her criminal or cop… there wasn't any man good enough to let down her defenses for. She would never, ever allow a man to have any power over her.

Strike first, strike hard was her mantra.

Viewing Detective Sergeant Kenneth Hutchinson through squinted eyes of disdain, he very much reminded her of her sister's abusive cop husband.

Sonora hated cops. She could easily hate this one, too.

Maybe it was time to play out some of those vengeful fantasies she entertained as a teenage girl, her tears soaking her pillow.

Hutchinson, trying to infiltrate her organization, was completely unaware that she knew who he was. A cop.

Boy, was he going to be in for a surprise.

-oooooo-

Starsky shouldered him as they walked around the table, filling their plates with food.

"Hope you know what you're doing," Starsky whispered to him. "She looks really mad."

"Well, I know I got her attention. That's gotta help accelerate this whole thing. I'm ready to get this show on the road. Gettin' a little homesick already. Aren't you?"

"Absolutely. Like they say, partner, no place like home."

(tbc)


	2. Chapter 2

The Dungeon 

She explained to them how it was going to go. She had years under her father's guidance developing her techniques in "retrieving" information from people who would attempt to keep it from her.

It was torture, pure and simple.

They never knew the name of the snitch and, seeing the delight in her face, both of them knew that wasn't the point when she said, "_Now_, I'd like to have a little fun with this," as she stood next to Starsky, bound by chains to the metal chair he sat in.

"_If he_…" she said excitedly, pointing to Hutch, who sat with both his arms strapped down securely to the odd wood and metal chair, identical to the one Starsky was in. Electric wires hung eerily, pronouncing the chair's danger. "_If he_…cries out in pain, anything at all…a whimper, a sniffle, then it'll be your turn."

She laid her hand on Starsky's shoulder to emphasis the point. Starsky jerked away from her – making her smile even more.

She made her way back to Hutch.

"Understand. It's like tag. Or musical chairs…whatever. I hear you guys are pretty close. Ask me, I think it's all show. Prove me wrong." Her eyes penetrated through Hutch when she said to him, "The moment you think it's too much for you… just let me know and then it's Detective Starsky's turn."

"Now, this is the tricky part, Davidddd" she said gleefully, skipping back to his side, and leaning into Starky's face. "Don't say a word. If you talk, decide you want to confess your sins, encourage him _to be stronggg_…whatever, I might just think you are messing up my research. _Yes,_ research, _that's it_ exactly-- and I just might decide to take that out on Ken, too. Get it? Sounds like fun, right?"

She stood in front of Hutch, and squeezing his face roughly in her hands, she whispered into his ear, "You should have kissed me," she said evilly, delivering a spiteful kiss to his cheek.

A game?

How could she be so sadistic?

Hutch saw the sickened look on Starsky's face and gave his partner a reassuring nod. It was a strange place they found themselves in. A grim situation.

Hutch processed the information—Sonora's intentions-- and made his conclusions.

They were in big trouble.

Panic built up inside him. He pulled angrily at the restraints on his arms, hoping for divine intervention to intercede, allowing him to slip his arms free and then his body so he could tackle the maniacal witch that played with people's lives and emotions for her perverse entertainment.

The thought of watching her send bolts of electrical fire into Starsky stung him bitterly. That hurt more than anything she wanted to do to him.

Hutch thought he had prepared himself for the surge of electricity but he hadn't. Yes, it hurt. He knew it would. When it came to pain-- imagining about what the affliction might be like never fully captured the actual experience-- it was always a case of it being it _worst than your imagination_. But he knew one thing.

He understood perfectly what she had said and basically she had made "the game" very easy for him. He had something to hold on to, a hope that he could make a reality and he wouldn't let go of it. He wouldn't cry out. He would go to a place inside. Find the strength somehow. He had spent years protecting his partner and was very good at it.

He excelled at it.

Hutch would die for him.

-oooooo-

Sonora Latrielle had given Hutch a death sentence. She was playing a game that his friend would play to the end--as he would for Hutch.

But the only way they might have a chance to get out of this was to share the burden.

Starsky thought if only he had a minute to talk to him, he might be able to get through to him. Tell him how much he didn't want Hutch to do this.

"_C'mon, buddy,_" was the silent message Starsky sent Hutch's averting eyes.

The attempt to negotiate with Hutch.

Begging him for a first you, then me, then you, then me plan that Starsky knew Hutch had already decided wasn't going to happen. Opting for the first me, never you route was more likely.

There wasn't going to be any negotiations.

This was the kind of thinking that was always their downfall. It wasn't smart, Starsky thought angrily. Throwing one's self on the sword to save the other was an immediate reaction—one that drove out all rational thought and left no room for compromise.

Starsky wished that they had in the past made a solid agreement not to be used against each other in some sick perverted game of torture like this one--_if the situation ever came up that is_. He was already feeling the phantom pain for the real kind that Hutch was enduring.

Wanted to curse him, take him by the shoulders and shake him hard as he yelled into his face-- **don't do this**! But Starsky knew he _had_ to release him. Their only hope was to be true to that part of them that endured it all…through every challenge…every attack, the part Sonora couldn't touch.

To free Hutch from the agony of what his decision was doing to Starsky. To acknowledge that it was an act of love and sacrifice.

So he looked into his friend's face and Starsky gave him a most uncomplicated smile of understanding.

_It's all right. I know._

Honoring and understanding that Hutch couldn't make any choice other than the one he had made.

So Starsky kept his silence and Hutch kept his.

The silence tore up Starsky's insides just like the electricity ripped through Hutch's.

-ooooo-

He was watching and didn't know if it had been a half-hour or three…four…or five hours later. Hutch was alive. And Starsky waited for the dropped head to lift for what seemed like forever.

The metal scraping sound of the dungeon door being flung open echoed loudly when the Monster barreled his way into the room. He gave Starsky a menacing look, making sure Starsky fully understood that he wanted to kill one Detective David Starsky and was just waiting for the word from his mistress. He roughly released the metal restraints that had secured the unconscious man to the chair and, hauling up Hutch's body under his arm, the giant started dragging him out of the room.

That was when Starsky had let out the threatening growl, as he jerked his body trying to release himself from the irons that pinched tightly against his skin. It earned him a thunderous front kick to the head from the massive giant. The kick immediately darkened Starsky's world as it sent him and the chair tumbling over hard onto the cement floor.

He woke up in pain. Disoriented, Hutch struggled to bring the pieces of information floating around in his head together…violent spasms pulsed in his muscles. It took him more than a few moments to understand that his arms were tied together above his head--his body twisting in the air.

_The moment you think it's too much for you… just let me know and then it's Detective Starsky's turn._

He had been moved—was in another cold dank room. Where was his partner?

The question ignited panic.

Blinking fiercely, he tried to bring into clarity his partner's presence…needed to find the face of the man who could still the pounding terror in this heart.

Awkwardly canvassing the room, his view limited by his own arms pulled tautly overhead, his eyes made contact with Starsky's. His friend, still hog-tied with chains to the peculiar chair was there too.

The dark-haired cop laid out his plea in the silent conversation between them.

_Stasky: Don't do this, partner._

_Hutch: Can't._

_Starsky: Please. Please._

_Hutch: Can't do it, Starsk._

_Hutch: You all right, huh?_

_Starsky: Buddy. No._

_Hutch: Don't worry. Not so bad._

Hutch closed his eyes. He had to concentrate on what he wasn't supposed to do. Not to cry out. No yelling or screaming. He had to be quiet. Or…

Her voice jolted him.

Looking ready for an evening out of sipping champagne and nibbling hors d'oeuvres at the opening of some ritzy art gallery, the small woman was now dressed in gold silk. The asian-style pantsuit was elaborately embroidered with delicate trees and flowers. Her jet black hair was pulled back tightly with a rich looking jeweled comb and her ruby red lips finished the elegant attire.

Yet, it was the ominous looking object she had gripped in her hand that had both Starsky's and Hutch's stomachs churning violently.

Sonora was not going to be attending any social event for the evening. She had other plans.

"Don't suppose either of you is familiar with this fine ancient weapon. It's often called 'the weapon of opportunity.' It's basic, a weapon for the common man." In a strong graceful movement, she swung a six foot wood staff over her head, stopping its action just in front of Hutch's cheek, letting it rest there as she continued speaking.

"In Japan it may be called a bokken or jo, in Korea- joong boong, Philippines- sibat, the English – quarter stick," she explained, pressing the staff harder across the side of Hutch's face. His body, raised a few inches from the ground, shook from the strain of his arms tied together over his head through a large metal chain that hung from the ceiling.

"I am quite the expert," she taunted.

Hutch, attempting to hide unsuccessfully from Starsky the difficulty he was having trying to breathe, kept his eyes shut.

Sonora rapped his cheek roughly with the staff. "I could have M rip you to pieces-- but that is so boring, so typically American, no? I'm always eager to teach people about other cultures." In a quick motion she pulled back, sweeping the staff across Hutch's chest, cutting deep through his shirt to the flesh underneath. He hissed quietly though his teeth.

The large bodyguard hidden in a dark corner of the room waited, prepared to watch the upcoming entertainment for the evening. He listened to the often-repeated history of Sonora's cherished weapon of choice, shifting his feet in boredom as he crossed his arms over his massive chest.

"Oh, a friend of mine was kind enough to build in three blades at the end here for me." Pressing a button on the side of the long weapon, she discharged the length of the sharp knives and then retracted them. "See? It's one of a kind—just adds a bit of the unexpected to the whole thing." She turned to smile in Starsky's face.

Starsky wouldn't give her the satisfaction of looking at her. Instead, he kept his eyes locked on Hutch and the blood trickling from the three deep lacerations that ran from his shoulder to the middle of his chest.

As if in a demand for his attention, she swung the staff overhead. Stepping forward, she made contact with Hutch's torso, then delivered a blow across Hutch's back. He gasped for air as his body swung from the chain above, the links making a loud rattling sound from the action.

Not giving either one of them a chance to catch a breath, she proceeded to make several more graceful and powerful assaults to Hutch's body.

Halting, breathing hard, she continued to educate them about the weapon in her hand. "They are often made from bamboo or rattan. _Mine _is made from an exotic African hardwood-- _unbreakable_… _unforgiving_. There's a science to it. The trick is to know exactly where to strike to inflict the most damage internally."

Sweeping the staff around her back and switching hands, she struck again, delivering more pain to Hutch.

Even though he didn't want to watch anymore, Starsky couldn't look away from his friend--couldn't leave him stranded--alone with his suffering and Sonora's taunting. Didn't want to see the brutalizing of his friend. Starsky felt the ache in his heart with each punishing blow.

-ooooo-

Hutch was losing his hold on reality.

He struggled to catch his breath. Rebelling water ran from his eyes.

Each assault by the hard wood echoed pain to every nerve in his body. He couldn't prepare for the next blow, stringing together previously inflicted pain with the new pain and old pain and more pain. As all of him was absorbed inside the center of a world of agony, he had no choice but to retreat. Desperate, he tried to back peddle his mind to a place and time before there was this torment.

Hutch was in a place outside of himself—above the anguish. He could think again. His mind, distanced itself from the physical body in an attempt to save its sanity. An internal survival mechanism had clicked on. He couldn't see anything but what was directly in front of him- -Sonora. Her eyes were wild- -trapped on him, devouring him as she swung on him. She looked almost surreal – a come to life female villain from a Marvel comic book. If she wasn't trying to kill him, Hutch thought he might be laughing at the woman in designer clothes frenzied dance with a piece of wood that towered over her.

What did she want! He wasn't sure what was left of him…what was left in him-- but, if she wanted him to cry out --_yes, that_ _was it _-- that's what _she _wanted..._he wouldn't_…couldn't let that happen. Not with the conditions she had given.

He couldn't take a betrayal to Starsky into the next world.

So it was over then.

He was less afraid of death than he was of putting Starsky through this.

She would never make him hurt his friend. No matter what she did to him.

The realization made him feel a surge of brazenness and, as he looked back into Sonora's face, he allowed his lips to put together a broken smile.

Maybe he still had a little life left in him after all.

-oooooo-

It was powerful.

The act of defiance forced Sonora to move away from him. Stepping back, her gaze remained on Hutch, her mouth slightly open as she breathed harshly, dots of sweat beaded above her top lip and on her temples. She let the staff fall from her hand.

The wooden staff clattered on the cold stone and rolled noisily several feet before coming to a stop.

Starsky thought he saw a look of shock on her face and he watched her closely.

Something had happened, he wasn't sure what. Was it possible--somehow Hutch had gotten the upper hand?

The hard knock on the decades old large metal door interrupted the peculiar moment.

Monster, answering the urgent interruption, shared some excited conversation with someone hiding in the shadows.

The huge body leaned down to speak into her ear.

"They're coming for them. They are already on the grounds, about 25 men. We've got about 15 minutes to get out of here."

Starsky heard it. "_Hold on, Hutch! Help is here! Hold on!"_ he yelled ecstatically to his friend.

She spoke in a distinct tiny voice to the Monster. "Tell them to get the helicopter ready. We'll be taking him." She said, nodding at Hutch.

M protested. "Miss, noooo."

"Get him down, now!"

"What the…" Starsky spat out in panic.

M went about the chore, nodding in disagreement as he lowered Hutch's body, letting his head hit the ground with a loud thud.

"You're crazy, lady! That's kidnapping a cop! He needs a hospital! He's still alive, just leave him," Starsky begged.

The clanking sound of heavy chains falling to the ground registered up Starsky's spine with a shudder.

Starsky, astonished at what was about to happen, looked to his unconscious friend. Believing somehow Hutch could hear him, he cried, **_"I'll find you, Hutch. I promise. HEAR ME? I'LL FIND YOU!_** Don't give…"

The Monster snatched at Starsky, lifting him and the chair he was tied to like a five-pound bag of potatoes.

The giant of a man, M, held up Starsky like a rag doll and slammed him up against the stone wall repeatedly. "_If_ you live, you better not step a foot in my presence again."

"M, no time for that. Let's go!" Sonora's order forced M to release the death grip he had on Starsky's throat, choosing instead to crack the cop's head against the wall and plummet Starsky into a world of darkness one more time.

"You don't know how lucky you are," he growled.

Turning back to his task, the bodyguard picked up Hutch, slinging him over his shoulder and following his mistress to arrange their escape by helicopter.

-ooooo-

She no longer cared about M's warning gaze. Her heart was beating fast and she felt a little out of breath.

Had she lost her mind? Kidnapping a cop!

She looked over at the body M had tossed into the back of the helicopter. Sonora's heart was beating way too fast.

It wasn't the rising of the copter that was making it happen…or the attempted rescue by the small army of cops that was probably hot on their heels.

It was him…the cop.

He was the cause of the thumping her heart was making inside her chest.

She could feel M's stare bearing on her.

She almost told him, "You're right. Throw him off." But she couldn't…she wanted him. That's all there was to it. She wanted him.

She didn't know at the moment where this irrational thought came from, but Sonora always acted on her impulses. Something had passed between them when he stared her down--defying her with his smile-- declaring she wouldn't control him…break him.

He had taken away her power. 

She needed to break him, somehow. And she would figure out why she needed that to happen later. Right now she had to start planning on _how_ to do it. She hoped that he would live long enough for him to take his part in the play she was writing in her head.

Things weren't going to turn out for her like they had for her sister, Celina. She would make sure of that.

She leaned back, relaxing her body into the seat under her.

Dr. Archelaus wouldn't want to help her but, in the end, he would. He never refused her anything.

The doctor had taken on the role of father figure even while her real father was still alive. He had made things happen behind the scene for her, without her father's knowledge, to make sure everything always went her way. He'd do it again.

She smiled to herself. Yes, Detective Hutchinson would be surprised how far she'd go to force him into obedience.

(tbc)


	3. Chapter 3

-ooo-

Absence Makes the Heart

Starsky wanted to stay exactly where he was… in darkness and alone. He was well aware that people were trying to bring him to a state of consciousness he was not ready to live in.

He had to process a few things. Try to prepare for the pain that waited for him when he opened his eyes, got out of bed, and returned to a life-- not as he knew it.

Hutch wasn't going to be there.

People would be trying to make him see things their way, asking things from him, pushing their consolations on him with plates of food and curious phone calls. Trying to get him to make promises he had no intention of keeping.

He was going to find Hutch. Break down some doors, crack some heads…whatever.

Starsky tried to wait them out till they were all gone so he could slip away and do what needed to be done.

Drifting in semi-consciousness, he reluctantly allowed their voices and words… _concussion_…_poor dear…nothing yet on Hutch_…to wake him.

Dobey, Huggy, Edith and a few officers were there to greet him. Keeping his emotions hidden, Starsky received their _aahs…ooh,_ with deliberately executed patience. Shocking them with his calmness, his 'welcome back to reality party' eyed him suspiciously --exchanging questioning glances with each other.

Whatever show they were waiting for-- expecting -- they weren't going to get. Starsky didn't have time for that. He ran his plan over and over again underneath the pounding in his head.

-ooooo-

"Starsky, you think I'm an idiot!" Captain Harold Dobey bellowed. "Do you really think I went for that whole act at the hospital? What took you so long?"

Both of them peered down at the badge and gun Starsky had just unceremoniously dumped on his superior's desk.

"I know what you're doing and, if you think for one minute, I'm gonna let you take off and mess up this case to find my detective you've got another thought comin'! I'll throw your butt on disability and have some doctor sign you into a psychiatric hospital faster than your foot hitting the sidewalk out front. Now get those off my desk!"

Losing the standoff, a dejected Starsky, hesitantly reached for the items. Dobey slid over a pile of folders that were on his desk and told him, "Sit down and I'll tell you what I've got so far."

The superior, speaking into the manila, said "We're gonna deal with this the same way any family deals with a problem-_together_." Dobey looked up to study Starsky's face. They stared at each other. Softening his tone, the older man continued, "Dave, I need you to stay focused… we can't afford to mess this up. Ken needs us to get this right." Conceding, Starsky relaxed his stance and took a seat.

Starsky nodded. "Right, Cap'n…I know, you're right…It's just that he's out there _somewhere_. I don't know if he's…."

Dobey interrupted, stopping Starsky from verbalizing the horrible thoughts in his head. "The _best place_ for you to be is exactly where you are. We're gonna take advantage of every resource available to us. FBI, Scotland Yard, Interpol. He could be anywhere. I'm callin' in all my markers. We gotta play it smart. Hutch is alive. I don't know why they took him. But he's alive, I believe that."

Starsky felt a smile coming to his face for the first time since…

Hutch _was_ alive. It was good to know someone else shared that belief with him. Starsky had begun to see pity in the eyes of people — demonstrating their sympathy for the loss of his best pal. It felt good to hear Dobey say it out loud. Hutch wasn't dead.

"Now," Dobey said, handing some files over to Starsky, "these are people who have some 

connection to the Latrielle Family organization. Somebody in here knows where she is. Let's find her. Then we'll find Hutchinson. I expect you to come to me the minute, _you hear me_? The minute--you come up with anything. _Got that_?" He pointed a finger at Starsky. "Let's find my detective," Dobey added, coughing roughly, as he struggled to maintain his composure. "Now get out of my office and get to work."

"Thanks, Cap'n," Starsky said as he stood up, wondering if he should reach out a hand to his superior.

"Get outta here," Dobey barked back and Starsky took that as a sign the moment had passed.

Dobey definitely was the kind of captain that would put it all on the line for his men.

Starsky had never even thought about how the man must have felt about losing one of his officers to some bizarre kidnapping. Dobey had hand selected them for the assignment and something had gone terribly wrong internally. He was sure his superior was also thoroughly investigating who had hung his boys out to dry. But Dobey wasn't just their boss-he had taken each one of them into his care. Behind his harsh demeanor, lay a man who positioned himself in their lives like a natural father. There was a lot of love there.

We're gonna deal with this the same way any family deals with a problem-together. 

They were like a family.

Nothing felt better than when all of them were together and Starsky could feel the richness--the wealth of the fine assortment of people who had become his new family. Didn't matter how many insults flew back and forth --they all knew the value of what they had put together. Starsky and Hutch, Huggy, Dobey, Edith and the kids.

They had other good friends, too. People who they had met along the way. Unlikely friendships with the everyday hard-working folks of Bay City, that shared in their beliefs that life was about good friends and good times--that should be appreciated and celebrated. Many of those friends were feeling the heartache of Hutch's absence. Suffering silently with 'the family.'

Hutch's parents had come to Bay City, visiting the dark-haired cop when he was in the hospital. Feeling that he had let them down, Starsky could barely look them in the eye. Dr. Hutchinson told him that he was sure Starsky had done all he could. Gripping the officer's arm, the grieving father thanked him for being the best partner and friend that Ken could have had, making Starsky cry tears he swore to himself he wouldn't.

-ooooo-

The Specimen 

Hutch was in pain. Every muscle, every vein. He could feel the blood pulsing through him--every nerve alarmed and in distress. His lungs were heavy and ached with spasms. He tried to stagger his breath and lessen the expansion of them in an attempt to ease some of the discomfort. The throbbing in his head was so intense he couldn't formulate his thoughts. Where was he?

The doctor crouched down low to speak to him. "Detective Hutchinson? I'm a physician. Do you hear me?"

Hutch didn't know the little man in the lab coat. Squinting his eyes to bring the doctor into focus, the officer quickly decided this person talking to him was not there to help him. No, he didn't know the man, but the detachment in the doctor's voice was a warning to Hutch --he was _not _where he should be. He wasn't in a hospital because no one had tended to his injuries, and the fact that he was propped up against the cold wall in a room with no bed or any furniture was more reason for him to be worried.

He was in pain. Everything hurt.

"Detective Hutchinson?"

"You don't know me," Hutch said tiredly.

"Know you? I shall create you," Dr. Archelaus announced prophetically.

The strange statement forced Hutch to lift his head. "Y-You're crazy… I'm a c-cop…" he said, attempting to intimidate the doctor who laughed out loud in response.

"_Of course, you're a cop!_ _Detective Sergeant Kenneth Hutchinson_ of the Bay City Police department. Single, you drive a piece of junk car, like to fancy yourself champion of the common man, love plants, play guitar…used to be partner to one Detective David Starsky."

"You…leave…him… out…" Hutch said mustering up the energy to threaten.

"I'm not in the least bit interested in your partner, Detective. _You _are my primary interest right now." Reaching out a hand, he crouched to examine Hutch's face.

"Get away frommm me…" Hutch groaned loudly, practically tipping over as he weakly tried to knock away the man's hand.

"Oh. Yes, the pain," the doctor said in mocking tone. "I can help with that if you like."

"Lea me lone," Hutch said through gritted teeth.

The doctor stood up abruptly. "Gladly," he said succinctly and strolled out of the room.

Hutch fell over on his side. Pulling his body in tightly to its center, he hoped to contain all the misery into his stomach and maybe vomit to expel it from his body. His compromised body trembled uncontrollably. It was so cold.

Starsky probably didn't know where he was. _He_ didn't know where he was.

He and his partner had been in the Latrielle compound. But this didn't look like that place and he remembered being on a plane or something…that Sonora Latrielle had been there. And now this little man with his arrogance. Hutch was sure he was about to find out more about the doctor's bad side.

He just wanted Starsky to be safe, wherever he was. Starsky had said he had a bad feeling about this case and Hutch would have to tell him one day he was right and next time…next time…

He couldn't think anymore. The pain was taking over. He was losing his battle to stay awake- not sure what he would find when he woke up. With no idea what this doctor's plans were for him--- he had to try to stay awake. Not miss his chance to escape.

-ooooo-

He woke abruptly. His hand wandered to the stickiness on his shirt-- sending needles of agony through him from the slashes on his chest. He heard Starsky calling out to him.

_I'll find you, Hutch. I promise, hear me, I'll find you._

It was all he had left to hold on to.

"Hesse gonna find me." He spoke the words out loud to himself to give them life. "He'll find mmee."

Hutch tried to swallow, but his throat was swollen and dry. He couldn't believe his stomach was able to get any of his attention as it began to constrict with hunger-- the last thing on his mind was food.

He could sense movement in the room and forced his eyes open to find the little man in the lab coat readying a syringe.

"Detective, I have a little something for you. We need to tend to your injuries so we can get to the real work at hand."

Hutch shook his head slightly in defiance. His mind wanted to lash out words of protest, but his body pleaded for help. In his condition his options were limited. So he lay still, telling the man who was preparing to inject drugs into him, "Starsss gonnn find mee…"

"Of course," the doctor said as he administered the sedation.

Dr. Archelaus waited for the detective to go under--then he went about his business- assessing the policeman's injuries and planning his treatment. He had let the pain go untreated for just long enough to weaken the man's spirit. Why not? He needed to bring him down off his recent victory over Sonora.

Sonora had told him about the cop's defiance and his strong will and Dr. Archelaus was looking forward to the opportunity of breaking his newest specimen.

The doctor had been called evil, but he felt it was really only his actions that were. He was well aware of what he gave up and what he gained by allowing obsession to control the human spirit to consume him. The soul didn't belong to man, but Dr. Archelaus had spent most of his adult life on a quest to destroy the intangible inside of a man and then crush the empty shell that remained under his feet.

Now he was going to do it again…with Detective Hutchinson's brain on the receiving end of the scientist's manipulations.

-ooooo-

_Master of the people._

That was the Greek translation of the last name, and Stavos Archelaus had lived his life claiming the birthright boldly. His father being a drunkard, who had not taken ownership of the power of the name Archelaus, had abandoned his wife and their five young children when Stavos was nine. The pathetic cowardly act of a father who ran scared from the responsibilities at hand propelled Stavos to his destiny. The young boy immediately became the man of the house. He received his manhood instantly and began running the household with an iron hand. An exhausted and weak mother relinquished all power to him, and his four sisters adhered to his every word. The power was intoxicating and he held all their fates in his control. He told his sisters who would marry and who would go to University and, even now in their old age, they still discussed major life changes with him first.

Dr. Archelaus, finally marrying in his late fifties, had tried the same strict discipline on his wife, twenty years his junior. She had fought him so often that, in the end, during a night of intense bickering, she had slapped him. Stavos had lost his patience and strangled her into submission and death. He had called Zavier Latrielle, who had sent over a clean-up crew to pick up the body and make sure the cops wouldn't be able to find any evidence of wrongdoing. The boss of bosses, Dr. Archelaus's benefactor, also sent a personal message along with an envelope fat with money to the young girl's family, letting them know it would be in their best interest to act as if she had never been born.

Stavos Archelaus was an important part of the sophisticated Latrielle organization. He was an expert in his field and Sonora's father had given him full reign. No expense was spared in making a scientific playground to fulfill all the doctor's fantasies. The Latrielles' money and power provided him with sophisticated chemicals…bodies, minds--- giving him years of playtime inside the human brain-tweaking and poking around it. Playing it like a string instrument…listening to the tone, watching the movement--any reflex. He made demands and gave instructions and directions to his victims. A little pain inflicted here and a little terror there to create just the right blend of obedience and devotion. Dr. Archelaus had designed many an assassin for Zavier Latrielle. Getting his 'subjects' to sacrifice their lives in grand kamikaze acts of violence.

But, Sonora didn't want an assassin. She didn't want to know her enemy's schedule or where his kids went to school so they could be kidnapped. She wanted a dutiful, devoted husband _or_ at least the appearance of one.

Archelalus knew the cop was going to be difficult…tightly holding on to his old life. He would have to add some of the newer drugs he had been experimenting with to get the officer to let go of it. When Detective Kenneth Hutchinson started to listen to his instructions, the scientist would guide the cop into his new life in the arms of Sonora—his wife. Dr. Archelaus wasn't quite sure of all the side effects --stresses his magic drugs would have on the human body. He'd have to just wait and see. It wasn't like the unlicensed physician had to report to a medical board any damage done to a patient by his unapproved procedures. There would be no investigations into his medical background-- no fear of malpractice lawsuits.

If Hutchinson had some adverse reactions, another tweaked version of his formula would be administered. Hopefully, the cop wouldn't die-- that would certainly make Sonora angry and he wanted to give the young woman, who was like his own child, everything--

anything her heart desired. It was his greatest pleasure in life. The doctor smiled to himself as he pictured her throwing her arms around his neck in appreciation for another job well done.

He was in charge of the cop's world now. The little room he had the detective in was one of Dr. Archelaus's finest works. His pride and joy. He designed a room where he mastered the controls, as he took on the job of tearing down his victim's defenses, his mind, his memories…his very being. Just a turn of a knob to drop the temperature to near freezing, or make them feel like they were inside a steel drum sitting in the hot sun with the turn of another. He could lift and rotate the room at speeds fast enough to create hours of vertigo and nausea. Bring the ceiling down low to keep the subject cramped and confused. Of course, he would have the benefit of all the old standbys--starvation, over-stimulation, terror. But, most importantly, he had the magic of his specially designed drugs.

The doctor was actually a little excited to have the officer so close so he could monitor and record the clinical research needed to validate his conclusions. Who knows, maybe some government agency might pay him a nice lump of cash for the privilege of duplicating his final results on their own 'specimens.' Yes, this just might get him that little private island off the isle of Crete.

The water was beautiful there.

-ooooo-

_They kept telling him things. Always talking. The light either bright white or he would be left in complete darkness for hours. But there was always noise. Either a woman's or that doctor's voice… at least he had told Hutch he was a doctor--or there would be a horn blasting, or a siren… and he couldn't sleep… _

_He was losing track of things… in his head. Hutch decided he only had to remember one thing. _

_Starsky would find him-that was his promise. _

_He was so hungry. _

_Maybe he was dying. Couldn't die…had to wait for Starsky._

_10 27 ½ Venice Place, 589879 – was his badge number …Starsky's breakfast-- 2 jellies, large coffee light and sweet. … last file number he was working on was … 7652 no 7562… blue and white Adidas._

_Barry Micheals sat in front of him in sixth grade and Lizzie Campanelli was behind him. She had long brown hair… no, short…no, long. _

_Starsky's last birthday – they went bowling—no! they went to a basketball game and then pizza at that place on Fitzgerald… no-it was chinese…yeah, it was chinese…_

_Huggy sold Starksy a pet rock for twenty dollars-- he didn't want to forget that…no._

_Huggy sold Starsky…sold Starsky…sold…_

_Won't forget you, Starsk….best friend I got in the whole world…not forget you...never forget Stars…._

_Venice… Place…Venice…Venice…V-V-Vincent..v-v-…_

Hutch tried desperately to catalog each and every memory before it was extracted from its rightful place and discarded into the air in front of his own eyes

They were delicately being removed -- one by one. He muttered to himself the memories he could stop before they disintegrated, repeating them in random order as he tried to keep them in his heart and mind.

Terrified, he pleaded with the doctor to stop what he was doing to him. The hunched over practitioner of misery just shook his head and, pushing his glasses back up a bulbous nose, peered down at the man who was soon to be Sonora's doting husband.

"Please," Hutch begged. "My life..." he told the doctor…"my life…"

"You don't need it anymore," were the cruel words that followed the patient back into unconsciousness. "I'm giving you a new one." Dr. Archealaus laughed back.

-ooooo-

Cold, that's all there was. Cold burrowed into his bones and blood. There weren't enough memories left to distract him from it.

_Don't forget him! _

_Who?_

_Can't forget Starsky._

_No matter what._

His body, racked with tremors, brought him back to the most definite present. He was freezing to death. The thin cotton pajama bottoms he wore offered no protection from the frosty air floating all around him.. Hutch pressed his body against the wall… slick with…and he took a shuddering breath he thought would be his last?

-ooooo-

Possession is 9/10 ths of the Law 

The man found himself standing in the grand living room. He was alone, wearing a pair of dress pants and an open collar white linen shirt. He raised his hand to his chest to record that he wore no coat. The space seemed familiar but he didn't have any memories of it. He heard a woman's voice behind him and felt dizzy after turning quickly in the direction it was coming from.

He was struck by the beauty of the woman walking confidently toward him.

She reached up, taking his head in her hands and pressed her lips fully to his, sending tingles through his body. The man was stunned and a little confused when she pulled back from the kiss and proceeded to go on talking about her day. His heart fluttered teasingly and, overwhelmed with a strong feeling he could not control, he drew the woman close, giving her a deep kiss. Abruptly, letting her go, he apologized, "I'm sorry…I'm…"

She became the recipient of his prudent observation.

Sonora could see his mind processing what had been planted. She tried to keep a calm look on her face. The kiss the cop gave her had just knocked her for a loop but she dug her heels into the floor and steadied herself.

She nervously tugged at her sweater as the cop's eyes swept the room. Maybe it wasn't going to work she thought. Maybe Dr. Archelaus was going to have to take him back to the laboratory and work some more magic on Detective Hutchinson.

"No need to apologize for kissing your wife," she said with labored casualness.

He turned to look at her. A few uncertain seconds went by and then he reached for her again-- just like he was supposed to. A man so in love with his wife, recovering from a near death experience…

Sonora's eyes twinkled as she winked at the doctor who was watching them from the top of the stairs.

"That's quite a greeting for a woman who's just been out shopping," she told him.

Now everything was in place. She was very happy.

-ooooo-

The subject of their experiment didn't know tonight would be his first night out with his wife of three years. Sonora's kidnapped cop husband had been fed the details of his life with Sonora via weeks in training in Dr. Archelaus's brainwashing boot camp. The conditions were harsh but he had graduated with honors.

Sonora spent the last month feeling smugly victorious.

Her new husband was very handsome. She loved watching the women they encountered when they went out together. Some gushed with silly giggles… others let their voices get deep and throaty as they talked about the fish of the day and how it was prepared, or did they want that in _large _bills while their eyes stayed glued on her bronzed trophy.

Sonora was surprised how much she enjoyed his company and wondered why she got the least bit concerned when he didn't feel well- or if he ate lunch. Why should she care? He was there to meet her needs.

A twisted act of revenge against the monster who destroyed her sister's life. Revenge against cops—just bad guys in uniform…against men.

Still, she felt a little giddy as she tried to find the right outfit to wear on their first real date.

Her _husband_ had insisted that they go out for dinner. Wasn't even sure why she had agreed to his request.

The shapely woman studied the black dress she had on. For some reason the plunging neckline that showed off mounds of breast, clinging to every inch of her body, displeased her. It was one of her heavy hitters. The type of dress she'd wear to seduce a man into a state of powerlessness.

The power of seduction. A way of life for her. Seduction--she knew all about it-- one of her biggest weapons.

But, the man waiting for her downstairs didn't need to be seduced. He was devoted to her…Dr. Archelaus had made sure of that.

She took off the form-fitting weapon. Settling instead on a simple sleeveless red and black floral dress and a black crochet shawl. It made her look like Mrs. Kenneth Hutchinson she thought.

-ooooo-

"I told you--you look beautiful, didn't I?"

Blushing, "A few times," she said.

Amused, Hutch asked, "Sonora? How long have we been married?"

An overstated "What!" slipped out of her.

He covered her small hand with his, lovingly smoothing over the skin on the back of it. Hutch peeked down into her face until she looked at him. His larger body pressed into hers.

The waiter returned to the secluded candlelit booth that hid them from the rest of the regular patrons. He placed a large bowl of fresh greens on their table, sprinkling it with just the right amount of the house balsamic dressing. He tossed it, and, from a standing tray. placed a bountiful basket of fresh baked rolls next to it.

"Looks great," he told the server, who smiled hugely back at the couple.

As soon as the waiter left, Hutch returned his attention to his wife.

"What is it? he asked.

"I don't know what you mean, " she replied nervously.

"You seem a little uncomfortable. I feel like we're on our first date," he said with a tease. Making it clear he wanted her to relax, he picked up the hand he was caressing and lifted it to place soft lips to her palm.

"I-I guess, I'm just…just wound up from all the….ahh…running around I did today."

She looked up at him again, to find his gaze taking her inside himself.

The air around them was electric as the seriousness of his absolute focus on her made her shiver.

He leaned into her so slowly she thought her heart might burst before his lips reached their destination… her neck. His breath there made her feel heated and lightheaded. She closed her eyes. She opened them quickly when she felt his movement--only to find his face in hers. Eye to eye.

_I'm the one in charge here_ --she told herself. 

The blue was hypnotic…and, when she parted her lips to speak, he took possession of them, kissing the bottom lip tenderly. She fell into his waiting arms, giving in to the full mouth on hers.

"Excuse me. _Excuse_ **_me_**… I'm sorry." Sonora tilted her head sideways, to find the waiter presenting her the wine bottle she had ordered but she couldn't understand a word he was saying.

Hutch nodded approval. They watched the young man open the wine and pour a small amount of the dark red liquid into a fat wineglass.

Sonora, with Hutch's muscular body wedged next to hers, was too distracted to realize that there were two men waiting for her to taste it.

Raising an eyebrow at the server, Hutch reached for the presented 1925 Cabernet. He took a sip of it and said, "It's fine, just fine."

Their glasses were then filled part way. Leaving the table, the smirking waiter glanced back at Sonora Latrielle. The woman was notorious for being a difficult patron—had on a few occasions run him through the ringer with her bullish demands for special items not on the menu, but he had never seen her so out of sorts before.

Sonora reached for the wine, almost knocking it over. Her _husband's_ hand was there to catch her glass before the expensive drink colored the white tablecloth.

"Hmmm, I don't think you're relaxed yet," he said placing a hand on her thigh, he made tiny circles on it with his thumb, as he again took command of the intimate space they shared.

Sonora felt like a teenage girl. When she glanced back in his face expecting to see lustful demands, she found the man beside her was filling her plate with the field greens salad.

"What would you like?" he bemused.

Flustered, she answered, "Ummh?"

"Pumpernickel or the cibatta?"

"Oh—ahh… either one." Her big eyes were glued to him as she watched him pick out a dark roll. Breaking off a piece of it, he dipped it in the salad dressing and he took a bite.

"Wow. That's good," he said. Bringing up the last morsel of it to her mouth, she obediently opened, taking it from him with a self-conscious nibble.

"Yes, it is… it is. It's good," she agreed shyly.

_Damn it! Why was she acting like a shy schoolgirl?_

He was sweet though. She had noticed it before… sitting so close… she could see the little boy in the grown up man. It was going to be hard not to give _him_ everything he wanted.

Suddenly feeling hot, she grabbed a nearby glass. Gulping down the ice water, she continued to study him while he dug into the large glass bowl of greens to serve some to himself.

She was used to taking charge of the dinner table—sometimes ordering all the food and wine for everyone who would be sharing a meal with her.

But she couldn't be bothered with those details right now. His thigh touching hers, the cologne, and something emanating from him that neither she nor Dr. Archelaus had programmed into her new husband was casting a spell.

He was sexy… but it was more than that. She had been in the company of sexy men before--had never gotten butterflies in the pit of her stomach that she had to swallow down to prevent their escape out into the air. There was more going on here with this man than she had bargained for. _Mrs. Hutchinson_ was wondering if maybe she was the one in danger.

Zak's daughter didn't do puppy love.

But…

She liked the way he gazed back at her, letting her know that she was the most important thing in the room. Greeted her with casual touches to her arm, her waist… the way he curled the tips of her thick black hair with his fingers while she talked to him about her day. It was changing her. She found herself thinking about him in the middle of business meetings and had even left one to call and hear his voice.

That voice was getting to her.

-ooooo-

She watched him pull back the sheets and climb into the bed.

All her instincts and knowledge of men told her that in a matter of seconds, his demanding hands would be clawing at her body—testosterone making him dumb with aggression.

Proving her wrong, the man beside her gave a bare shoulder a tender kiss and protectively pulled the covers over her.

"Goodnight," he said warmly, settling next to her trembling body. As if he had read her thoughts, he whispered, "I'm nervous, too. We both just need some time getting to know each other again. We'll be all right." Snuggling closer, he went to sleep.

In her calculations, she had factored sex into her elaborate scheme. Anticipated it …wanted it. She didn't particularly like blonds, but had to admit she found the tall detective good-looking.

On her terms--that's how it always worked. Watching the destruction of her sister…how love had brought her down. Had Celina groveling at the feet of a man who would abuse her just as soon as show her the tiniest bit of affection. Sonora had decided early in life – no human being, _no man _-- certainly not the likes of a stinking cop would ever do that to her. Any man who wanted to be with her would know his place.

At dinner she realized that she had overlooked something.

She never thought about making love…falling in love…being in love.

The way things had gone tonight, that was looking like a real possibility.

She remembered the careful way Ken had attended to all her needs at dinner that evening. Flickering candles— reflecting the ocean in his eyes…pulling her shawl up to cover her shoulders when the room got cool. Was her veal all right? Flagging down the waiter when she seemed disinterested in it …to order a dish of fettuccine alfredo for her. The dish was a childhood favorite of hers and, as an adult, felt herself much too sophisticated to order it.

He shared his food with her until the steaming bowl of creamy pasta arrived, and then sat back smiling as she awkwardly tried to eat it without getting the cheesy sauce on her dress.

Gingerly, he fed her pieces of fresh fruit at the end of the meal, once tapping a napkin on her mouth to clear away some juiciness.

No. None of that had been planned.

-ooooo-

Nearly three months of wedded bliss.

Sonora had never been happier. Never been happy, period.

She had been strolling down the crowded aisle of the county market when the perfect world she had created tipped its balance…

The basket of fruits and vegetables she carried was starting to get heavy and had her thinking about handing it off to M when she heard the commotion behind her.

Her beautiful precious husband was on the ground.

She pushed the people away to get to him. "Ken!" she called out. "What's wrong?" Sonora frantically looked for the Monster. "M, help!" she cried. "What's wrong, honey? What is it!" she asked with alarm, her hands searching his body for injuries.

Hutch, blinking back pain and confusion, couldn't answer her.

The crowd cleared way for the giant man.

"What happened?" his deep voice boomed as he cautiously canvassed the crowd for a possible shooter.

"I don't know. Get him to the car," she ordered.

The fallen man reached for her hand...color drained from his face.

He was unconscious during the speedy ride back to the estate.

The convulsions started as they drove up the driveway. Sonora cuddled her husband closer while M ran into the house to get Dr. Archelaus.

"No...no…no…" a frightened Sonora whispered, as she held him.

-ooooo-

There was a long period of complete days of confusion... a relapse was the way Sonora explained it to Hutch, when he asked her what was wrong with him. She reminded him that doctors who had treated him after _his_ _accident_ had advised him something like this might occur. She could never tell him the truth. Not ever.

Headaches, brutal and unforgiving, stripped Hutch's vitality and plunged him into nights filled with pain. Dr. Archelaus put him on heavy doses of painkillers, which the patient refused to take, every 4 hours-- as was prescribed.

M was intrigued to find _Zak's kid_ losing sleep and missing meals as she attended to her husband--her new boy toy. It was unusual to see the pampered woman give up any of life's pleasure for someone else. As soon as the cop ended up being too much trouble, Sonora would probably have the bodyguard dump him off on some deserted road like when she had him dispose of the pet chihuahua—the one the mistress of the house couldn't live without-- until the dog pooped one too many times on the expensive Asian rugs in her bedroom.

Life was peculiar… M thought.

He heard the cop tell her, "S-sorry, sweetheart, just…just so…so…tired. You…go without me…"

_The party of the season?_ Sonora wouldn't miss the event that had been on her social calendar since the beginning of the year even for her funeral Monster thought to himself. All of the who's who of high society from all the surrounding provinces would be there.

Sonora shushed the bedridden man. "No, honey, I'm going to stay right here with you." She gently pushed back the bangs from his forehead. "Not sure, you might have a fever," she said with concern.

M, standing in a corner of the dimly lighted bedroom, continued his silent observation of the couple. The bodyguard's nonchalant gum chewing belied his amazement of Sonora sacrificing a night out on the town.

"What's happening...w-what h'pnin," the officer said fretfully.

"You're going to feel a lot better in just a minute." Her guilty eyes scanned Dr. Archelaus's face for confirmation of her statement. The doctor had just administered another shot of combined drugs in an attempt to abate the ailing man's symptoms.

The elder gave an uncertain shrug.

Sonora stroked the fair hair. "Poppi, get the light," she instructed the doctor, who reached to turn off the lamp near the bed.

"You s-should go on…d- don't let me stop you havin'sm fun…I'll be... right…" Hutch told her, drowsy with the drugs taking effect on his speech.

"I'm **not** leaving you. Just sleep, precious," she told him. "I'll be here when you wake up."

"L-luv..." he murmured.

"I know. Shhh, now. Sleep," she said.

Slipping out into the hallway, Dr. Archelaus quietly closed the bedroom door. The older man absolutely didn't like the direction this game was heading. Well, it was supposed to be a game…a very clever one at that, he had thought, when his darling little Sonora had told him of her plans to punish the cop who had dared to think he could infiltrate the Latrielle organization. It was silly that the police hoped to bring down an empire decades in the making -- just now reaching its pinnacle of success with Sonora at the helm… and he-- the mentor behind her. The doctor certainly wasn't taking advantage of a simple-minded young woman. Sonora had a brilliant and ruthless mind and all the guts to match it. Any plan she gave birth to, no matter how challenging, was implemented with gusto and tenacity.

The doctor could see her leading the Latrielle Family into the seat of supremacy it had once enjoyed during the early years of her father's infamous rise to power.

Now his little princess had gotten distracted…intoxicated by some delusion that she was loved and in love. If the doctor didn't believe in his own expertise to gut out Detective Hutchinson's previous life, the scientist could almost believe they all were being played by the Bay City cop. What if none of the experimentation had taken hold and all they had done was hand over full access to the syndicate by putting a mole- Hutchinson- right in the middle of their criminal operation.

Still, the detective couldn't fake his vitals…all of those revealed a body in major trouble.

It would be better for everybody, the doctor thought, if this cop succumbed to whatever anomaly was going on inside of him, so that he could have his Sonora back… not this Mrs. Kenneth Hutchinson woman…that was watching over her sick husband. Maybe he could just slip a little something extra in one of those injections and get rid of blondie – permanently. Alas, Sonora would never forgive him and Stavos Archelaus couldn't live with that. The mastermind had no idea what was wrong with his calculations to have brought on this sudden attack of convulsions to Sonora's new pet.

"Damn it," the doctor cursed as he stalked down the long hallway—making his way back to his laboratory.

-ooooo-

The man who stood in front of Dobey was tall, and wore a suit that probably cost more than all of the suits the captain of police had in his closet. The captain spied the colorful rich looking Italian silk tie and the masterpieces of leather shoes. He certainly had never even seen anything like them in the places he shopped. And never expected to see them on one of his off-duty officers.

The subject of his thorough observation was by all means his detective, Ken Hutchinson. But this man's impatient demeanor and the way the piercing blue eyes distanced himself from his boss of five years was working Harold Dobey's nerves. Certainly not the Hutch he was looking for.

The man who had been absent from their lives for far too many days…months. It was Ken, and Dobey wanted to throw his arms around him and holler for joy-- a prodigal son's return home.

The terms of the meeting arranged by legal counsel wouldn't allow for that type of behavior. Anyway, Dobey had promised himself he would play it cool.

The reserved doctor and power-suited lawyer that sat on either side of Hutch, manicured hands, stiff shoulders, arms planted firmly across chests -- exhibiting a formidable defense, reminded the captain of that promise. It was obvious to all that Dobey was in for quite a fight.

Dobey could almost hear Starsky's growl seeping through the one way observation glass and into the small interrogation room.

Everyone at the precinct had worked endless overtime hours to find Sonora Latrielle and the abducted Bay City officer. Ken Hutchinson was one of their own. Shock was not strong enough of a word to describe the reaction to the hand-delivered letter that arrived three months after Hutch's disappearance asking for a cease and desist in the pursuit of his return.

It was in Hutch's best cursive--all the dotted i's and t's crossed just so. Starsky didn't need a handwriting expert to confirm it. The tone was angry, offering some vague and undescribed threat about these attacks against Sonora, his wife. Asking Starsky if there had ever been any friendship between them, to drop the whole thing and to leave him alone. That was like a sucker punch to Starsky's gut. Bile lurched up into chest and burned a hole in his hurting heart.

David Starsky had every intention on arresting Zak Latrielle's little girl himself. Had fantasies of jerking her hands behind her back--clicking extra tight handcuffs to bite into the skin on her wrists-- announcing in his ugliest voice that _she_ was under arrest. Boldly stating into her ear--each and every charge that was going to keep her locked up 'til all her beauty and youth faded away. In his fantasy he never could verbalize the one charging her with the death of Detective Sergeant Kenneth Hutchinson, because he refused to believe Hutch was dead.

His partner being married to Sonora Latrielle had never been any part of the scenario.

Could Hutch really be asking him to forget what that witch had done to them? To leave him alone? Go on with life like their friendship never existed? Starsky needed to talk to his friend, to see him. The dark-haired cop was hurting and confused.

Tenacious police work had resulted in verifying Hutch was alive. Starsky had almost lost it completely in a room full of seasoned officers when that fact was revealed. But ever since they had located where Hutch was, all efforts to see him had been thwarted by telephone hang ups, massive bodyguards…paid off judges. Sonora's team had managed to block any attempt on their part to see their missed friend.

Statements given to the local judges suggesting Hutch was of sound mind, making his own life choices and a high profile psychiatrist at his side, had worked successfully against them.

When a lawyer finally contacted Dobey for a meet with Detective Hutchinson and his doctor to prove his stability, things started to look up. There was only one stipulation. Hutch did not want Sergeant David Starsky present. Sonora's doings, Starsky was sure of that.

Dobey, relaying the story to Starsky, grumbled harshly that he had no intention of negotiating with Hutch or the Latrielles. Starsky told Dobey he had no idea why Hutch would go along with this, but wasn't able to press charges against Sonora until he could see Hutch. He had to know his friend was OK.

"Do it, Cap'n."

Starsky was desperate enough to squash his anger in exchange for a look at his missing partner through a glass window…separated by the glass.

So the meeting was set up.

"Detective Hutch was tortured at the hand of the woman you represent," Dobey said plainly.

"I represent Kenneth Hutchinson," the lawyer responded coldly.

"Bull! You forget I have an eyewitness. A decorated police sergeant and Detective Hutchinson's partner for over five years. I say, your client – _Kenneth Hutchinson _is under the influence of some type of drug!"

"Is that an accusation you can _prove_, Captain?" the lawyer asked slyly. "We're not going to deny that there was some…uh hmmm…_role playing _that got out of hand. Perhaps Detective Starsky wasn't quite aware of the nature of the relationship between his partner and Ms. Latrielle --even if their relationship developed at the end of some _rough housing_. Mr. Hutchinson wouldn't be the first person to fall in love with their supposed abuser…"

Hutchinson, obviously upset and embarrassed, grabbed at his lawyer's arm. There was a whispered heated conversation as the officer apparently disagreed with the lawyer's line of defense on his behalf. The doctor leaned in to say something to the arguing men. Hutch leaned back in defeat and the lawyer continued his rant.

"Maybe—just maybe- you folks don't know everything about Detective Sergeant Hutchinson. Apparently, he's got a kinky side nobody knew anything about. I'm sure the courts and newspapers are going to have a field day digging into his past."

The suggestion that Hutch had enjoyed his torture outraged Captain Dobey, who shot to his feet. _"You watch your mouth, counselor!"_

Just as outraged, Starsky had to be restrained by fellow officers from breaking through the door that separated him from his friend and the slimy lawyer's neck.

Hutch stared straight ahead, kneading a few deliberate fingers into the headache that was etching pain lines across his face.

"Captain Dobey," he said softly. "I appreciate your concern… but I wish…I-I wish you all would just leave me alone…_please_. Is that so much to ask? You have my psychiatric evaluation. I just want … I just want…"

Everyone in the room was quiet, waiting for him to finish.

"Son? You can't want things to end like this. You had a fine career… Starsky--people who love you—roots. What about your parents?" Dobey offered, breaking the silence.

"I talked to them," Hutch answered tiredly. "I don't need _anyone_ in my life who can't respect the choices I make. Sonora is my wife. I love her. She makes me happy. Why…" raising his voice, "_Why_ can't everyone accept that? _My_ choice."

Dobey looked down at Hutch's trembling hand. The doctor covered it with one of his and whispered something to the upset officer.

Dobey couldn't hear it

Starsky fought hard to swallow back the exasperation that might just turn into an all out tantrum. He couldn't believe the things Hutch was saying. How did this witch get him under her spell? There's no way the partner he knew could have fallen in love with her. Not after what she had done to them. The whole-orchestrated scene was repulsive.

He knew something was wrong with his Hutch. The look in his eyes was disconcerting. Disconnected. If his partner was drugged, they couldn't prove it without a blood test.

There wasn't a possibility of that happening.

-ooooo-

An impatient Dobey, bellowed, "Starsky-- there's nothing we can do- unless you wanta go ahead and press charges against Sonora. You heard what Hutch said. That's only going to drive him further away from you. _Is that what you want?_ You bringin' charges against her now is going to ignite this thing like a lit match to an oil tanker."

"I know. I might…might lose him forever."

Gotta figure out what's going on, Starsky thought.

There wasn't any time to figure it out.

Hutch and Sonora were gone.

Starsky began a long slide…down hill.

Nobody-- no police agency, no PI could get a line on where they went.

The couple had left the country for a vacation to Europe and vanished out of sight again.

(tbc)


	4. Chapter 4

The Calvary

Huggy whipped open his front door with a "What! Starsky? _Are you crazy?_ It's 2 a.m.!"

"Hug, did ya think you could tell me you have a line on Hutch and expect me to wait till tomorrow afternoon to meet this guy?"

"Damn it, Starsk!" said a nervous looking Huggy who tried to close the door behind him as he continued talking. "I told you I had to get some stuff together…"

An aggressive Starsky pushed him to the side as he entered Huggy's apartment without invitation, asking, "He in here?"

"Starsky, wait…" Huggy warned.

Starsky stopped in his tracks as he found himself staring at the grimy lump the vagrant made as he slept in a curled up ball on the couch.

Starsky shook his head with disbelief, spinning on his toes to confront his barkeep friend. Incredulous, he asked, "Are you out of your mind, Hug?"

"Look, Starsk. You weren't supposed to see him like this. I was gonna clean him up and…"

Starsky and Huggy both lost the momentum of the conversation when the lump grumbled some curses and groggily sat up to evil eye the noise that had awakened him.

"Ah… Jay. I'm sorry…we--we didn't mean to wake you, man. I know you said you needed some--ahh sleep," Huggy said, stumbling over the apology.

Starsky was pissed. Huggy could see that, so he maneuvered him into the kitchen while Starsky's harsh gaze remained on the bum in Huggy's living room.

"Starsk, _listen to me!_ This guy is the genuine article, I swear. Give me a few hours, OK?"

Keeping a tight grip on Starsky's arm to prevent him from getting to the peculiar man on the couch, Huggy could feel the tension building in the taunt muscles.

"Starsk, _please, man_. _You know_ I wouldn't be playin' games when it comes to Hutch. Not under these circumstances."

Starsky gave him a long look and relaxed his angry shoulders as he knew Huggy definitely would not be playing a game with him.

"OK, look…" Huggy said, hoping to facilitate even more patience from Starsky. "I'm gonna put on some coffee and get Jay presentable and then we'll show you what he's got. I… promise, man. This ain't wastin' your time."

"Yeah. Whatever," Starsky conceded as he forced himself to sit at the kitchen table.

Starsky sipped the strong coffee, amazed into shock to find the clean-cut handsome man now sitting at the table with him and Huggy.

The person who just a few minutes ago looked like a hobo was now a clean-shaven mid-thirties man with bright brownish green eyes and a head full of healthy thick black waves. Starsky thought Huggy's friend looked like he might be one of those folks who probably had to check all the race boxes on that section of a job application. The man also generated a charismatic confident energy that was starting to take some of the edge off Starsky's previously dark mood.

They didn't spend any time on small talk. Jay proceeded to pull from his small briefcase around 50 pictures of Hutch, Hutch and Sonora, Sonora and the Monster, and some other folks Starsky didn't know.

Starsky had been rocked by the pictures of his dearest friend. The pictures were the first real proof to confirm what Starsky knew in his heart -- Hutch was still alive. He carefully studied Hutch's face -- noting the paleness, dark circles under his eyes, the drugged vacant stares, pained tiredness in every frame, and the dependence Hutch seem to have in the pictures, always close to Sonora. Their hands tightly clasped together. Her hand around his waist or she leaning comfortably into Hutch like they had known each other for years.

Huggy and the man who had brought the pictures sat back quietly as Starsky, seemingly in shock, kept looking over and over the black and white and color photos.

Huggy finally stopped the picture shuffling by laying a firm hand on his friend's forearm.

"Starsk?"

It was only then that Starsky remembered Jay was there. "_Who are you?"_ he asked, pointedly staring into Jay's face.

Jay looked away and Huggy said to Starsky, "Jay. Jay's what you might call…a master. You know how in karate or judo you have some cats who get good enough to be black belts. Well, in the world of espionage, you could say that Jay here is a black belt to the nth degree." Huggy added flamboyantly, "You won't find many like him around. If _anybody_ can get Hutch back, _he can_."

"How is he?" Starsky asked.

Sighing sympathetically, the man who just a few hours earlier was a vagrant camping out in Huggy's living room explained, "Your partner's life is in danger. He's been given chemicals people shouldn't have pumping through their blood. His heart, kidneys, brain--compromised as a result. He's suffering with debilitating headaches, blackouts--convulsions. He's in real trouble. We need to get him out ASAP."

-ooooo-

Jay and Starsky sat on the back steps overlooking Huggy's small fenced-in backyard. The night sky was a clear bluish black--stars clearly twinkled next to the three-quarter whiteness of the moon.

"I was hand selected. Inducted--right out of elementary school. Guess I was a kid genius. Somehow I got caught in the headlights of one of these secret handshake, nobody's supposed to know exists covert agencies. Some special government recruitment--innocently packaged under the guise of bettering the youth of America. You know--it was just some long term project to create the next generation of elite super spy freaks. All funded by tax paying dollars."

Looking straight ahead, Jay took a long drag on the cigarette held tightly between his thumb and forefinger. "My parents, being true Americans, were convinced _and paid_ to relinquish their rights as my guardians to the _ole red, white, and blue_. I've spent a lifetime getting the best of the best. More training than the marines, blacks ops, CIA…chemistry, bio-warfare, combat, international law, medicine, mind control--you name it. I'm a _genuine 'made-in-America' original_. I've had extensive accelerated courses in anything you can imagine. Kinda overkill if you ask me."

"Hmm. Not your average childhood."

"Yeah, you got that right." Jay answered sarcastically.

"So, what has all this got to do with Hutch?" Starsky wondered out loud.

"The question _is_ what has this got to do with partners?" Jay responded.

"I don't understand."

Jay kicked up some dirt on the ground and began to tell his story. "Three years ago…I had partner… a buddy that came up with me through most of my days at Spy High. We graduated the program together and, some years later, we hooked up as partners. Together we formed an unbeatable duo. No matter what the assignment. But you know it's a hard life. I got burned out. I don't know…I started wanting out. I couldn't beat it and… I left. I took off and left my partner on her own--in the belly of the beast…cuz I was only thinkin' about me…"

Starsky's own deepest fears already told him how this story was going to end.

"Something happened to…your partner."

Jay didn't answer until after he lit another cigarette. He let out a large smoke cloud from the deep drag he had taken."People like the Latrielles happened. I don't know who got to her. All I know is that Rachelle went under..."

"Your partner's a woman?" 

"Yeah. Just partners--no romance or anything. She was bright, man, funny…strong. She could kick some ass, too. _No joke_. She took the assignment after I skipped. I don't know all the details. It's all classified, of course. I just can't get to it. All I know is what is left of her is sitting in a special hospital for the mentally impaired and…I'm the reason why."

"You can't blame yourself for that," Starsky said, sincerely.

"Look, I've spent the last couple of years playing and replaying this in my head. I'm living with it. But if you're asking me what this has to do with your partner--I'm gonna tell you--_everything_. It's about _Rachelle_…_Ken_… _and about what's right_. I'm _not_ gonna just sit on the sidelines and let this happen to another cop. At the end of the day—we're all just cops. _Isn't that right?"_

Starsky nodded in agreement.

"You gotta understand one thing. This is my _mission_. Mind control, brainwashing. I've spent the last few years of my life rescuing people's kids and family members from cults, religious fanatics. Working in the shadows, in under-developed countries devastated by civil war –where torture is used to win the battle for the minds and souls of the people. _Every time_ I help somebody, I feel a little bit closer to redemption. You never know, maybe someday I might find out something to help…Rachelle."

Starsky turned to face him and hear the rest of what Jay had to say.

"_I get angry--_ when I think about the arrogance of these practitioners of the dark side of science. _Psychiatrist, doctors_, _the mad scientist_, they're all vampires sucking out life…who think nothing of stealing away a person's…being…taking away the life a person's created. Take them from the people who love them. _I gotta stop these fiends--_ _no matter what!_ I…" Jay halted, taking a moment to control the anger that was evident in the rising of his voice.

"If I decide to go along--what's the next move?" Starsky asked, cautiously.

Jay cleared his throat roughly. "First, I want to let you know, I'm not on anybody's approved list. Your Captain's not gonna like what he hears when he starts asking the right people about me. I left all those folks high and dry and they're pretty pissed about the money they lost in their investment."

"Got'cha," Starsky said.

"I gotta run this thing. Dave…I can call you Dave?"

"Whatever," Starsky answered. Jay could call him 'cupcake' for all he cared if he was the man that was gonna help him find Hutch.

"You're gonna have to trust me to do this job. I know everything that's going on in your head. I've been there. You're on an emotional high wire, right now. I'm willing to make this my focus 24 hours a day—what ever it takes. I just know—I'm _that_ confident …I_ can_ get your partner back. _Can you trust me?_ That's what I need to know." Jay was finished talking.

Huggy came outside, joining them just as Jay's question hung in the air.

"Starsk, Jay can do this, man. I wouldn't steer you wrong. You know Hutch is like a brother to me…"

Starsky cut him off… "I know, Hug. I know. I just don't want to make a mistake. It's Hutch's life we're talkin' bout."

Starsky got up. Thinking hard, he walked away from them.

Huggy started to follow him but Jay put an arm out to stop him. "Let him think. There's a lot at stake here. It's gotta be his decision--one hundred percent."

Tossing the half-smoked cigarette to the ground, Jay got up and went back inside, leaving Huggy staring off into the night sky.

Starsky didn't care about the nippy cold air trying to urge him back indoors. He walked. Detective David Starsky had a secret, and he wondered if any of the people who were around him knew it.

The absence of his partner was killing him. He forced himself to eat and sleep in an effort to keep people's invasive care of him at bay. He had nightmares of finding Hutch's body floating in the water, or bullet-ridden behind an empty warehouse or sometimes as a ravaged corpse standing by the side of his bed with eyes that convicted Starsky--an indictment of his failure to fulfill his promise to him.

_I'll find you, Hutch. I promise, hear me, I'll find you._

Jay was right. He didn't have the strength left to fight the battle at hand. Starsky was holding on by a thread. He needed help. The man Huggy had pulled out of his bag of tricks had managed to do what all the police agencies who were working on their behalf could not. He found Hutch. All the markers Dobey had called in had equaled into a big fat nothing… but, here, this friend of Huggy's obviously had some very special skills. Jay had hit pay dirt.

Huggy once again had showed himself to be a best friend and lifesaving resource to his cop buddies. The local character, who had given him and Hutch hours of entertainment with his entrepreneurial adventures, had used his great access to underground networks to find help for both his cop buddies. Help by not only enlisting someone who actually found out where Hutch was, but someone who could also hold up Starsky--the wounded warrior. To take on the details of the operation that Starsky had to be honest -- he couldn't handle right now.

The inside of his head felt like mush. All this thoughts circumvented and hijacked to the same point of overwhelming worry for his partner. He was exhausted from carrying the weight of the worry and fear he had for Hutch's well being--his state of mind. Was he in pain? Was he eating? Afraid? Did he think Starsky had abandoned him? Starsky had severe stomach pain because he had hidden all his agony there and sometimes it was hard for him to stand up straight because of it.

It was 5 a.m. but Huggy's neighborhood was abuzz with activity.

Cars drove too fast up and down the city street and he could hear the loud conversation of men on a front porch. There was drunken laughter to his right and the tinny sound of music coming from a cheap stereo system somewhere--the life all around only contrasted with the emptiness he felt.

He missed the everyday noise of his own life. The slam the passenger door made when his partner jumped out of the Torino, the snickering comments about the salsa or some other red sauce Starsky always managed to drip onto his shirt, the 'good mornings' tailgated by a greeting smile…and…the lectures about the world and all it had to offer two cops who would step out of their comfort zone.

What he wouldn't give to hear one of those lectures again. He had to find Hutch and get back the sounds to fill the deafening silence that was driving him nuts. Starsky was going to get his partner back…back from the cold-hearted maliciousness that had stolen him away.

_"I get angry-- when I think about the arrogance of these practitioners of the dark side of science. Psychiatrist, doctors, the mad scientist, they're all vampires sucking out life…who think nothing of stealing away a person's…being…taking away the life a person's created. Take them from the people who love them. I gotta stop these fiends-- no matter what! …" _

Those were Jay's words and, right now, Starsky thought that they made more sense than anything else he had heard in months.

"_Hey, mister, not the safest place to be hangin_," were the words yelled his way by the group of teens that walked by him, bringing him out of his self-induced haze.

They were right and he had made his decision anyway, so he gave them a thankful wave and headed back to Huggy's.

Huggy heard the creak of the screen door and moved quickly to let in his haggard looking friend. Starsky gave him a sheepish smirk of thanks.

Slipping into the living room, Starsky went directly to where Jay sat.

"It's your show," Starsky said to him.

Jay stood up and reached out both hands to shake a confirmation of the deal. He added a firm pat to Starsky's back and looked him directly in the eyes.

"Let's go get your partner," Jay said. He motioned Huggy over and, laying a hand on Huggy's shoulder, pulled him into the circle. "All right--we're a team."

Starsky gave a small cough and confessed, "Actually…there's one more."

Jay gave him an inquisitive look asking, "Who is it?"

"Won't know 'til tomorrow," was Starsky's reply.

-ooooo-

"_August Moon?_ You serious?" Shrugging in disbelief, Starsky weakly shook the woman's outstretched hand.

August reciprocated with a bone-crushing squeeze that made Starsky feel like his fingers were caught in a vice.

"Hey!" he called out roughly.

"Didn't your father tell you a firm handshake leaves a good first impression," she said in a scolding voice.

"I ain't here to impress you. I'm here to find my partner, " he said with seriousness.

August also picked up the defeated weariness in the cop's reply.

"I'm sorry," she said, giving him a sincere sympathetic smile. " I know this must be really difficult for you."

"Let me show ya what we got," Jay piped in, pointing an invitation for her to sit down at the large booth in the busy diner.

She scurried into the seat and they all found a place around the green Formica table.

A waitress approached the booth and distributed menus to the new customers in her station. Each of them silently looked over the menu as they waited for the older woman to fill their cups with the steaming black coffee from the rounded glass coffeepot.

"I'll be right back for your order," she told them as she moved on to the next table, coffeepot in hand.

A sullen Starsky leaned back onto the vinyl upholstered cushioning of the booth. All eyes were on the silent dark-haired man. Jay correctly read the silence as a signal to tell the FBI agent the story of Kenneth Hutchinson's abduction.

There was a time when Starsky would have jumped at a chance to impress a woman as attractive as Miss August Moon. Dobey had used his contacts at the FBI - avoiding all the red tape to get an agent assigned to the case of the kidnapped Bay City officer as quickly as possible.

But Detective David Starsky couldn't tell the story of how his friend had been sucked into the dark nightmare that was Sonora Latrielle. He'd choke on the words and might lose his place as his mind wandered to the thought of shooting his way in and out as the preferred rescue plan. So he deliberately zoned out of listening to Jay who laid out the "team's" plan to save his partner.

August sat quietly, listening, eyes affixed to one Detective Sergeant David Starsky, who concentrated on using his fork to push the food around on the plate in front of him.

Occasionally, Huggy would say something uplifting in his direction and the cop would nod like the comment had ministered to him in some way.

August found the exchange between them very interesting. She had done her homework and felt like she knew all there was to know about the proprietor of "Huggy's Place," long time snitch to officers Starsky and Hutch, but decided there might be more to the story.

This Jay character was an unexpected player and, August knew as soon as she got a minute to herself, she would make a few calls and get a line on the bold storyteller who seemed to be positioning himself as leader of the pack. The FBI agent determined she had a job to do and this new cog in the wheel wasn't going to get in her way.

She had thought the case was beyond weird. So the fact that this quirky bunch would be part of the rescue effort didn't surprise her. She'd seen a lot in her career and this was just another odd case.

They were heading up north to quietly slip into Canada, nearly 3000 miles away. That meant several days of driving ahead. For now, she'd keep her eyes opened and her concerns to herself.

-ooooo-

"So why do you think she took him?"

The silence that followed her question was painful.

August could see David Starsky quietly searching for the answer, the look on his face revealed he was coming to a conclusion--for the first time.

"Hutch…he's… a…one in a million kind of guy."

She saw emotion trying to break through the stony features he had been wearing for the past months. August politely turned her eyes back to the road ahead. She didn't need to respond and knew that he probably didn't want her to.

The few words made complete sense. August had wondered why Sonora would risk so much, doing something so crazy as to kidnap a cop, and follow through on some bizarre fantasy. Detective Hutchinson was obviously handsome--she had seen enough pictures in their files to confirm that, but Sonora could get just about any man she wanted. Heck, Ms. Latrielle could have had that lunatic doc of hers to make one from scratch.

August read people in seconds. That was part of what made her such an asset to the bureau. She had spent hours studying their files, painting pictures in her head about what kind of people they were and remembered how she pretty much thought both cops were _"one in a million kind of guys." _

She probably had information about them that they didn't even know about each other.

Hutchinson could have had a life of pure comfort, living off his family's huge fortune. Born into the lap of luxury, he'd spent his whole life trying to crawl out of it. Exceptional student but never one to go along to get along. Often written up for his "disrespectful" attitude--just meaning he asked the _why_ question when he was expected to follow the rules like everybody else. He saved a kid from drowning at age 11, did a lot of volunteer work in high school--you didn't see that too often. He continued to buck the system by opting for the Academy after a two year stint in college where he spent more time carrying protest signs than going to class. Yet, he still managed to keep his grades up. Maybe the strained relationship between him and his father was the fuel for Ken Hutchinson's passionate rejection of all things establishment. She wasn't sure. She imagined it was probably more about the fact that he didn't compromise his beliefs. She respected that.

If they had never gone to the Academy, these two may have never met. That would have been a shame because the work they did together as a fighting crime duo was spectacular.

She thought about the fire that burned inside the man next to her. She had met him once before--certain that he didn't remember. She had the opportunity to see him--glib and more than tipsy at some police benefit several years earlier. She thought he was a bit of a jokester, teasing a few of the other cops at the event, making a scene as he reenacted several poorly executed police busts by some of his co-workers. It was all in fun, nothing mean-spirited. Out of curiosity she had pulled his file and was surprised to find it spilling over with commendations, and all kinds of beyond the call by the book good police work. Sergeant Detective David Starsky was no joke for sure.

Thinking back over to his behavior at that party, she thought it really said more about his live-in-the-moment personality than anything else. Only she hadn't figured that out till just now. She wondered if the premature and violent death of his father had given him an early understanding of what life was really about. Live or die, right or wrong. He didn't seem the type to take a seat in the back of the bus. He'd be right up front in the middle of the action. She imagined that he didn't stomach a lot of B.S. Another one not big on compromising values to fit in, which explained the simple commonality of these two very different sides of the same coin cops. It made a lot more sense why they had bonded. They were fighting the same war. Winning the same battle. Raising the same flag.

The two did push the envelope—bucked authority whenever it was necessary. She expected that while they knew the book -- the officers probably got very creative in dispensing the law in it. She was sure Captain Harold Dobey had his hands full reining them in on more than one occasion. But they were excellent cops.

There were many different reasons why people became cops. Some, who said "to help others" ended up just going through the motions. Officer Hutchinson's file was a testimony to a career of a cop that screamed put-your-life-on-the-line dedication. It didn't seem to matter if it was the corner drunk or the mayor's kid. She remembered the smiles, dancing eyes of the people on the street who had told her about how the cop had gone out of his way to give them money, drove them to warm shelter on a cold night, bought them a hot meal--a kind word…talked to them like they were special, even on nights when he was off duty. She also heard other stories, too --about the steely cold blue stare that had made it quite clear he was a deadly force. There were comments about him being ferociously protective of his partner. Lots of cops talked the tough talk. Seemed like Hutchinson didn't play that game. He'd crack a skull if he had to but would probably give the poor slob at the end of that beat-down a ride to the hospital.

Starsky, was a man of steel himself, a well-decorated ex-veteran, who could hit the volatile meter in a blink--leaving an impression on anyone who crossed his path. He was a real tough guy. He was bright and his education about the world came from his insight

earned from life experience. A fast learner who did not have to be taught a lesson twice. A lot of folks had told August in confidence that they would not want to get on the detective's bad side. There was also something graciously endearing about him that made those he bonded with hold him in true affection. He was fair and fought with his heart to keep things right in the world. His devotion to his partner mirrored the same intensity of Hutchinson's for him.

August didn't want to get in the middle of this thing between them…this partnership--more like a kinship. Too much feeling there and… _feelings _just happened to be one of those things she wasn't good at.

What had happened to his partner hit David Starsky hard--like a blow to his heart…his soul and the bruising was starting to show on the outside. August wondered if this brooding wounded man would listen to her analytical reasoning.

Her boss had told Dobey, "I can only give ya one--she's the best I got. Moon's all you need."

Her mom, quite the Barbie doll type, had physically cringed when August had told her she was off to become a Navy Seal. August Moon was the only female in the program and, graduating top in her class, had broke down the walls to fulfilling her life dream of being a super hero on the side of right and justice and all that was good.

Seven years of diligent fieldwork later, she was surprised to find the fight for good and world peace wasn't the goal of any particular group. It really was all about vested interest, and _who _was protecting _whose_ butt-- and _why_ they were protecting it. The _why_ usually having some bank account number neatly attached to it.

It wasn't the idealistic fantasy she signed up for but she tried her hardest to find even the tiniest bit of what was right and keep her focus and energy on that. In _this case_ it was easy to see what was good—and right. Sonora Latreille should have kept to the drug smuggling and the more traditional duties of a crime mobster's daughter.

August wasn't going to let her get away with ripping a good cop's life to shreds -- leaving behind the friends and family that loved him. Finding love in this world wasn't easy.

Love…

She could see it in their faces. The despair in Captain Dobey's eyes when she'd met him was more than visible. She saw the dedicated sacrifice in Huggy's presence, leaving his life behind as they took off for parts unknown.

And then there was Detective David Starsky, the walking wounded.

No. It wasn't right.

Latrielle should not have done this. Driving, August consciously flexed and relaxed each muscle-–always working to strengthen her body and prepare herself for the task ahead.

She looked back at the van behind them and wondered if Jay and Huggy were preparing, too.

-ooooo-

Blood

"So, Huggy, why do you think these guys are sooo close?" the tipsy August asked, raising an eyebrow to let him know he could tell her everything.

While Jay and Starsky had made early exits to bed and well deserved sleep, August and Huggy had decided on a couple bottles of red wine with their dinner to loosen up some of the stiff muscles they had earned from the long drive they had just completed.

"You're the FBI agent, you don't know?" Huggy replied, hinting at his annoyance.

"C'mon, Huggy. These are _men _we're talking bout. Men don't…"

Huggy let her fish for the words.

"You're gonna make me ask, right?" August said.

"It ain't all that complicated." Huggy paused, taking a slow sip of wine from his glass. "Sometimes, you cops think too much. Always trying to put a label here, file number there. Hutch and Starsky spend a lot of time together… been on the street long enough to know nothin's promised. A person could be sitting next to you one minute and the next minute his brains could be painted on the wall behind you. They're smart guys. Easy enough under those circumstances to figure what's important to you…let your friends know you love 'em. Pretty simple."

"I heard rumors," August said, still probing.

"These two guys don't care about rumors. If they were blood…_if they were brothers_, you wouldn't be asking. I can't tell you how it happened but them two is blood. That's why Starsky's hurtin'. Nobody can't tell him otherwise. If you wanna spend all your time trying to figure out _why_-- that's up to you. They love each other. That's the most important part of the whole thing. If you don't get that, maybe you been workin' solo too long."

The sobering words took the fun out her of her slight buzz. August felt ashamed for trying to make glib comments about the two friends.

Huggy had hit the nail on the head. Why did it bother her or anyone else if the two cops couldn't be bothered to get the world's permission on how they were supposed to feel about each other? Men were expected to follow the presets on how they interacted with each other--those were the rules. Wasn't like either one of them would win any awards in "following the rules" category.

They were originals for sure. She had seen pictures of them sitting next to each other--a hand on the other's thigh, huddled close together in consultation, arms draped over the other's shoulder and she'd allowed herself to read into it. To be honest--judge them.

She thought back and imagined her eyes looking at the pictures of two brothers, shared blood and family. She would have been happy to see the bold statement of their devotion to one another. She would have been glad to celebrate with the world how close these brothers were. Always together. She would have envied their closeness with the rest of the world. So, they were blood--that's how they felt.

That's why Starsky was dying a little bit each day that he was separated from his brother.

Embarrassed, she said a hurried a goodnight to Huggy. Making her way to her hotel room, she made a promise to herself to not trivialize the depth of the connection between the two detectives.

She renewed her _super hero_ commitment to fight the good fight and to help David bring his brother home.

(tbc)


	5. Chapter 5

Monsters in the Castle

M had been given the name "The Monster" in elementary school. Being the tallest kid, he even towered over some of his teachers. Having a love for animals, the child wanted to be a veterinarian, but the relentless teasing by his classmates drove him out of school. During the summer between 6th and 7th grade, the gangly boy had grown four inches. The 13-year-old giant decided he wouldn't return to the taunts waiting for him in junior high and, was certain, no teacher, principal or counselor would seek him out to encourage the poor student to return to complete his education and pursue college.

The product of an unfortunate volatile affair between the male and female town drunks, M was left alone to find his own way in the world.

Dropping out of school had allowed him to focus all his energy on becoming exactly what they had called him—a Monster.

People, intimidated by his size and bulging muscle, assumed he was mean, dangerous or violent, and were afraid of him. So, he worked hard to give them what they expected. It was easier that way. He found the right gait to let them know he wasn't anybody they wanted to mess with, and they crossed the street to get out of his way.

He calculated the right amount of bass in his voice so he'd never have to repeat himself. And, most importantly, he learned how to create a dark malignant look in his eyes, burying his conscious in the same grave he entombed his dream to be a vet in.

He didn't even like animals anymore.

All the cruel insults, like the ones yelled in the schoolyard, ceased. Nobody called him names anymore.

The world had shown him no mercy and he would return the favor.

Monster had met Sonora's father when he was in his 20's. Zavier Latrielle, who most people called Mr. Zak, was the only man M had ever met who looked him in the eye without fear. Latrielle was a big man, nowhere near as large as the Monster-- had the confidence of ten men and the ambition of 100.

The self-proclaimed boss of bosses became mentor to the boy society had rejected. The gangster took M under his wing, out of the seedy hotel M had been staying in since he was 14, and into his house, virtually giving the now seven foot giant the home he never had.

Monster loved the man like a father and did anything the reigning king of the international crime world asked him to do. He didn't particularly like the killing part but, _if_ Mr. Zak said it was necessary, _it was necessary_ – no questions asked.

But he wasn't just the hired assassin. Sonora's father spoiled Monster with extravagant nine course meals prepared by his exceptional kitchen staff. The spectacular dinners were followed by relaxing evenings of playing pool, while they drank the finest cognacs and smoked premier imported cigars. They went on long gambling weekends or fishing trips, just the two of them. It was a good friendship and the young man, who had been an outcast, found he could relax and be himself when he was around the older man.

Monster was a fierce protector of Zak Latrielle. The bodyguard left as a warning the broken, bloody, and dead bodies of those foolish enough to attempt to dethrone his boss on the front steps of their competition. It didn't take long for all the other families to come to the table to negotiate a peaceful resolution to years' old conflicts.

When the older man was diagnosed with terminal cancer, he made M promise he would give Sonora the same respect and protection M had given him. Monster, of course, agreed even though he didn't believe the spoiled apple of her father's eye deserved it. Now, since the senior Latrielle was gone, Sonora was his boss and he spent many a day babysitting the selfish young woman. He often found himself trying to reason with his mentor's daughter about her irrational demands like, for example, taking that cop. But once her mind was made up, Monster was never able to influence her.

Didn't matter, he would be there to bail her out of whatever trouble she created. It was his promise to Mr. Zak.

The weird thing was that the cop reminded him of Mr. Latrielle.

Even though Officer Ken Hutchinson was Dr. Archelaus's science experiment, M had actually found the cop to be very likeable. He had expected the cop to be a cop, no matter what they did to his brain, but that's wasn't the way things went.

M had stood in front of him at their "first meeting" orchestrated by Dr. Archelaus, who wanted to make sure there wasn't any memory residue left behind from that fateful day in the dungeon. Monster had been battling cops since his teen years and was certain he would have to restrain himself from ripping this cop's head off.

Surprising the bodyguard, the officer stuck out a hand and offered a sincere thank you to him for watching over Sonora during his hospital stay. Hutchinson apologized to M for not remembering him. Giving the huge man a natural warm smile, the detective looked Monster in the eyes and told him he hoped M would consider giving him a tour of the expansive estate grounds as a refresher

Monster nervously told him --sure, he'd show him around the place, and that was start of his odd friendship with the brainwashed cop.

Sometimes, late in the afternoon, Hutchinson would stop by M's room in the large out-of-the-way west wing. They would spend time playing chess or cards. M knew he probably shouldn't have allowed Sonora's _new husband_ to get that close to him, but sometimes he did get lonely and, missing Sonora's father, he was glad to have someone he could relax with.

They had a few good laughs.

Monster had been there many a time when one of those debilitating headaches would take the officer down and M would carry the man back to Sonora or Dr. Archelaus. He felt bad for the guy.

The bodyguard never discussed these feelings with Sonora or the good doctor, recognizing at any point in time either one of them might tell him to kill Detective Hutchinson. M was beginning to wonder if he would be able to do it. That could be a problem.

He couldn't forget about that first week when the cop was sitting in the garden and had told M he had a question for him.

The question on the cop's mind—

"Why do you keep yourself shut up it this makeshift castle all day?" he asked, kneading long fingers at the soft spot of his temples.

M had hesitated moving from his position of watchdog to conversationalist as Hutchinson motioned for him to come closer to the chaise lounger he had camped out in for most of the afternoon.

"I get out," was M's answer. The bodyguard actually squirmed under the detective's study of him as he slowly made his way over to the supine figure. "Look. People stare. I don't like it," M replied, surprised that he continued talking to a man who just a few weeks earlier would have tried to arrest him.

"Name doesn't help," Hutch pointed out.

"Just a nickname," M said flatly.

"What's your real name?"

Now M really was getting uncomfortable.

"Not that difficult a question is it?" the cop continued to probe.

"You ain't gonna believe it," M said as he debated with himself about revealing it. A moment passed and then he blurted out, "OK…it's Francis." M squinted his eyes as he waited for the response.

"Ouch," Hutch said, making a small smile appear on M's face.

"I'm gonna call you Frank, that Monster moniker is kinda creepy."

M watched the cop who brought up an arm to cover his eyes, letting out a barely audible groan. "You all right?" the big man asked.

"Y-Yeah," he replied, the pained expression on his face proof of the opposite. Speaking as if it hurt to talk, Hutch told him, "Frank…come back 'round after dinner. Ok? Y-y-you play chess?"

"I don't think…"

"I'll see ya later. Right? Just gotta close my eyes for a bit."

The man sounded drained and M didn't continue with his protest.

Sonora had told her 'husband' that the bodyguard was available to him 24-7 and M knew he really didn't have a good enough excuse to get out of it, anyway. She had also explained to the Bay City cop her need for a bodyguard had something to do with a foiled kidnap attempt when she was 12. Sonora told Hutch her father promised he would always see to it that she was safe, hence the reason for the permanent fixture in their lives of a 7ft. 350 lb. behemoth.

The newest houseguest of the Latrielle compound didn't know exactly why M was always so close by him though. Wasn't aware Monster had orders to stop the cop from getting out of Sonora's intricate web of deceit. She had given strict instructions to M of where Hutchinson could and couldn't go, who he could or couldn't talk to… and on and on…

So, the giant bodyguard was the _recuperating_ man's constant companion. He actually enjoyed the cop's company more than being joined to Sonora's hip. Her shopping binges were legendary --keeping M tied up for endless hours as she questioned his approval over how a skirt fit or if colors clashed. Or he would be stuck sitting in the hallway outside some boardroom meeting of the _families _with all the other paid muscle, as bosses, their lieutenants, and advisors tried to resolve the newest conflict on the table.

When he spent the day with Hutchinson, sometimes M would take the detective into town. The officer would pick out stuff for the garden or stop in one of the local galleries or antique shops. Hutchinson would talk to the Monster about art and ask his opinion about what he thought the artist was trying to say. M found he had a genuine interest in vintage furniture and the Bay City detective had helped him select a few nice pieces for his living room suite. They would debate politics and Monster liked that the cop never acted surprised to learn M was a thinker.

Most people assumed his gargantuan size meant that M had a brain the size of a peanut. It was nice Hutchinson hadn't prejudged him a dullard.

One day, while Sonora was out on one of her shopping trips, Hutch talked _Frank_ into going to lunch at the local pub.

M had never socialized with any of the people in town. He had received their circumspect guarded looks and considered them business as usual. That was the extent of his citizenship in the small off-the-beaten-path community.

Now, here he sat with _Ken_ at the fifty-year old bar, the local watering hole and mecca of social camaraderie. M kept a wary eye on Sonora's husband and drank bourbon on the rocks watching as Hutchinson talked the barkeep into genial relaxation. It wasn't long before M found the bartender, with a raise of an eyebrow and a nod of his head, inviting the bodyguard into the conversation. Other locals came and went and the man who, because of the cruelty of school children, had cut himself off from the world, found himself on the receiving end of some real '_Hey, how ya doin's.'_

It felt good.

It was a nice long afternoon. They had burgers. M actually had two or three maybe. There was an assemblage of loud conversations…that sometimes merged into each other, incorporating all the patrons into some jovial exchanges. Rowdy liquor-laced guffaws popped out now and then and M even sneaked a couple of glances at some shapely long legs that sauntered by. It was the most fun M had since Mr. Zak had been alive to spoil him.

"Mr. H., you're drunk. I better get you outta here before the missus gets pissed," M said after glancing at the clock on the wall and noting the lateness of the day.

"Frank… one more round, huh?" Hutch winked at him, grinning drunkenly.

Looking into the glazed eyes of the swaying man, M told him, "Look, you can barely sit up as it is. You really shouldn't even be drinkin' with all the meds you're on."

The quiet reminder brought a sadness to the cop's face that M didn't miss. "Let's get you home before you get me fired." He was taken aback with the compassion he felt. M didn't think he was capable of feeling bad for anybody. Definitely not for a man who had taken a vow to protect the laws the bodyguard was obligated to break.

Hutch ducked his head in acceptance, allowing M to help him off the barstool. "Hey," Hutch called out to the bartender. "Ric, it's been real. W-w-we'll definitely be back," he shouted out, almost slipping out of his companion's giant hands.

Waving a fat hand in M's direction, Ric smiled widely. "See you guys next time, Frank."

"Yeah, sure. Next time. Drinks for 'da house on me." Spoken like one of the gang, the words slipped from M's mouth before he had time to think about it.

_What's going on here_? The puzzled big man thought to himself.

M ended up having to carry the drunken detective, who had lost the ability to stand on his feet, through the front door and up the stairs to the bedroom he shared with Sonora.

"M! Where have you two been? I was worried! What's happened?" Sonora practically walked on the heels of the man who with Herculean strength carried her husband over his shoulders.

"Been drinkin," M said lightly.

"What!" Sonora said, stunned into silence. "You've been… What! He shouldn't be…"

"Look, I tried to stop him, but _you _told me to try to keep up normal appearances. He was walking into the pub 'fore I could stop him. I was kinda stuck."

"Let's just get him into bed." Sonora fussed as she lifted the hair from the hanging head to peer at him. "He's gonna be so sick."

M carefully let the officer's body drop onto the bed. The movement woke up Hutch who smiled broadly at him. "Hey, Fraaank…night's not over. Where you goin'?" he slurred.

"It's over for you," M said under his breath.

"Ken, you should **not** be drinking!" Sonora admonished. "I don't want you to do this again. _Do you hear me?_ If Dr. Archelaus found out…"

"OOOO, you don't wanta go tellin' on me," he whined loudly.

"SSShh, I won't tell this time," Sonora continued disciplining him as she loosened his tie.

"Well, guess I better say goodnight," M said, making a tipsy stumble out of the room.

"Ok, Fraannk…man that was great!" Hutch called out to him.

Sonora looked at M, mouthing the question, "_Frank?"_

M shrugged feigned ignorance as he exited.

Lying next to him, Sonora thought it was best to just let him sleep – in his clothes. He looked exhausted and she decided to let him rest. He could undress later if he woke up and was uncomfortable. Right now she just wanted to look at the man who she was falling in love with.

Smiling as her fingers traced the handsome features, she gently brushed them across the long wheat-hued eyelashes.

Reacting to the light touch, Hutch twisted his features and mumbled, "Mmmm, y' smell good…" and then she felt his breath on her cheek followed by a drunken snore.

She wondered why she didn't find out about this kind of life early on. She had spent most of her life asking, demanding, and getting. There weren't quiet moments like this. Just being with someone.

Her father had loved her, but he had never spent the time to really get to know her.

Never seeing her outside of his vision of her being _his_ bloodline, _his _legacy… not cognizant that she was a girl, then a woman, not just his daughter. She needed something more than power and making sure people respected that power. Her father had once told her he didn't care if people loved him as long as they respected him. And she had accepted that as Life 101. Get the other guy before he got you earned you a Ph.D.

Now, she was finding out that respect was only part of what she wanted out of life. She wanted love, too. Wanted quiet moments like this one with someone special. Kenneth Hutchinson was special. Not like any man she had ever known.

But…she had started this whole thing as a way to punish a cop for daring to express his love for his friend. Caught up in revenge, seduced by anger. The cruel joke she played to force a cop to his knees.

She didn't buy his act of self-sacrificing. On that day she looked in his face and saw a man ready to die for a friend. Die for David Starsky.

But, now, she understood it--why he didn't --_couldn't _give in. It was love.

It was love that had defeated her--not his ego. Love for his friend, and now _she_ was falling in love with a man who had no idea who he was. Didn't know who he was because she had commissioned Dr. Archelaus to throw his brain in a mixer and turn it on high.

A man who has hurting daily, his body taxed--subjected to blasting headaches, blackouts, tremors--because of her.

He was a man that didn't know his marriage was barely legal. There had been no proposal on bended knee, no months of engagement, and no extravagant wedding reception attended by a roomful of 300 of their closest friends.

That Monster had pushed the detective, strapped securely into a wheelchair, before a disreputable Justice of the Peace. The ten minute calamitous ceremony was performed while a drugged Kenneth Hutchinson nodded off. When it was over, Dr. Archelaus had kissed Sonora on the cheek and stuffed a roll of 100 dollar bills into the tattered blue jacket of the corrupt city official. Sonora had bothered to wear a designer white gown, toting a bouquet of fragrant lavender butterfly orchids and cream-colored gardenias. She could still smell them.

The new Mrs. Hutchinson and the doctor celebrated by finishing off several bottles of Dom Perignon as they feasted on Oysters Rockerfeller, lobster tail, roasted quail, and lemon raspberry wedding cake.

While the detective, in a sedated stupor, slept through the matrimonial day festivities.

Oh, wedding pictures? Lost by irresponsible movers several years back. The claim with the moving company--still pending.

So many lies.

Not that Sonora wasn't used to making promises she had no intentions of keeping. How many sniveling and humble adversaries who had dared to cross her path had she lied to? Almost getting a thrill as they wiped away their tears, she would put on an angelic straight face as she assured them of safe passage home, knowing full well she had arranged for the chauffeur taking the poor slob home to put a bullet through their skull before dumping them ontheir front doorstep.

In a way she didn't like being so attached to her new husband. She felt vulnerable.

Dr. Archelaus's adamant pleas to dispose of the officer had made sense. She hadcontemplated it for several days. She couldn't do it, though. Truth was Sonora had had feelings for him almost from the moment she'd seen him and wished she had allowed their relationship to take a more natural course.

She couldn't go back and change it now. Maybe, she could try and fix things--somehow.

Once they got rid of that Sergeant Starsky, she would have Dr. Archelaus try and repair the damage they had done.

Guilt and regret. Not regular sentiments in her personal makeup. Not until now. Now, they were a daily threat to her emotional stability.

Sonora was beginning to realize there was something wrong with her. Didn't know why she got so much pleasure out of others' pain and misfortune. She couldn't feel any happiness, though, about the condition Ken was in because of her.

Dr. Archelaus had warned her.

Ken didn't deserve this. In one insane regretful moment, to make things right, she had even considered just leaving him on his friend's doorstep, packing her possessions, and with M and Poppi in tow, start a new life overseas somewhere.

How long could this last anyway? 

She held him tighter and he said something nonsensical as his head fell over onto herchest.

What was she going to do?

-ooooo-

Distracted, Sonora tried for the fourth time to slip the gold and ruby earring into the piercing in her lobe.

She was worried about leaving him alone.

Dr. Archeaulaus was supposed to be babysitting her husband, but just a little while ago, she heard the old man yelling into the phone at one of his sisters. She begged him to stay but he muttered to her something about having to deal with this in person and packed a bag. She had tried the tears that usually got him to agree to do things her way. The angry doctor turned a deaf ear to her and stomped out to the chauffeur waiting to take him to their private airfield.

It was too late to have one of the other bodyguards come to the hotel and watch him. They were too far away. There just wasn't enough time.

She couldn't get out of the meeting she had come into town to attend. Every two yearsall the families met in some obscure town. It was a black tie event-- but it was all business. It was an expression of respect to the union they shared. In fact, Zak Latrielle had been the architect of the event that had become tradition. Zak's daughter not showing up would have been an act of sacrilege—making her a target for hostile takeover.

Finally, getting the earring in, she picked up a brush to tame the curls sticking out every which way.

She couldn't leave M home with him. It wasn't safe for her to do that. M visually represented the power of the Latrielle family. He'd been by her father's side. People feared and revered the Monster. So, she was going to have to leave him alone.

Growling under her breath, she threw the brush across the vanity, knocking over perfume and make-up bottles.

"_Hey! Everything OK in there?"_ Hutch yelled out to her from the bathroom.

Sonora hissed out tiny breaths so that she could answer pleasantly. "Fine!" she yelled back. "Just dropped something."

Ever since she had snatched him, there was always security around to make sure he didn't get away from her.

Why would Ken leave her now? He loved her. Really loved her.

Maybe she was overacting. She'd go make an appearance for a few hours. Shake hands, assure people their alliances with the Latrielle family were firmly intact and rush back to the hotel…to her husband.

_What could happen in four hours anyway?_

"You ready?" Hutch asked.

They were going to take a stroll before her meeting and visit some of the quaint shops around the hotel.

"It's chilly. Better bring a wrap," he suggested.

-ooooo-

"Ken? Kenneth Hutchinson?"

Jay watched, as the abducted cop pulling his collar together to fight the nippiness in the air, turned to face him.

"Hello. I'm Jay Anderson."

Puzzled and uncomfortable, Hutch peeked around the corner. Jay was sure Sonora and the Monster would soon be coming around.

Hutch started to walk pass him and Jay said politely, "Wait. I only need just a minute of your time. _Please_."

The fair-haired cop turned back to him. Determining he wasn't in danger, Hutch relaxed his shoulders as Jay continued speaking. "I wonder if you might be able to...ahh…to meet me-- later this evening. I have news from some of your friends back in Bay City. It won't take up much of your time, I promise." The expression on Jay's face carefully acknowledged Hutch might have to sneak around to make such a meeting possible.

Hutch looked down at the ground, shuffling his feet as he gathered his coat tighter around him.

"Just 10 minutes," Jay said.

"News from Bay City?" Hutch verified.

"Yes. It's important."

"I don't know. I…"

"10 minutes…" Jay reiterated.

Hutch remembered Sonora had an important meeting herself that same evening because she had told him not to wait on her for dinner. M always accompanied her when she went out in the evening. It might not be impossible to get away for a little while. The man inviting him for coffee certainly didn't seem dangerous and Hutch was more than curious. He sometimes thought about what kind of life he had in Bay City.

The wind picked up, levitating a brown paper bag to dance around their legs. Jay, comically stomping at it with annoyance, made Hutch grin. Jay gave him back a warm, expansive smile. Taking a hand out of his coat pocket, he pointed as he told Hutch, "Hey, there's a coffee shop right around the corner—the one with green and white striped awning. I can meet you there-- say around 6:30. Look, I'll be there till 8. OK?"

Hutch barely nodded as he accepted the stranger's invitation. His stomach oddly leaped, it felt wrong to agree to meet the man he didn't know but he couldn't explain why.

"Ken?" He heard Sonora's voice calling for him. Suddenly feeling guilty, Hutch turned to tell the stranger maybe he couldn't meet him this evening after all – not behind his wife's back, but the raven-haired man with the big smile was gone. The brown bag that had danced for them was lifted up by the wind and raced across the cobblestones down a side street.

Since the couple had taken a room at the exclusive Estonia, a five star hotel in town, to accommodate Sonora's evening business activities, it was very easy for Hutch to walk unnoticed out into the street. It was 7:40 and dark. At the moment, Hutch was feeling very schizophrenic. Secretly, he was looking forward to doing something on his own. Without his wife's involvement, input, or instruction. Acting like a teenager sneaking out on strict parents was making his stomach perform somersaults.

At the same time, he had purposely waited to nearly 8 o clock -- hoping the man expecting him at the café would be gone when he got there. Something inside told him that Jay _would_ be there, even if he got there at 9.

He stood outside the entrance, underneath the striped awning for a few minutes, unable to move. A group of seven giggly adolescents surrounded him. Encircling him, as they chattered, their movement shepherded him into the coffee shop. He found himself standing next to the glass counter displaying the café's fancy cakes, croissants, and oversized pastries.

The animated conversation of the group of girls had triggered a headache. The numbing pain started above his eyes and he dipped his head, taking a moment to talk himself back out onto the street and into the hotel room's large comfortable bed.

He felt a hand on his arm and looked up to see Jay. The stranger directed the now dizzy Hutch to a small table. The headache was picking up momentum and made him feel out of sorts.

Hutch massaged fingers to his temples, something he found himself doing a lot lately – completely oblivious to the other man who had joined them.

He raised his head, ready to tell Jay this whole thing was a mistake, when his eyes met with those of his ex-partner.

He knew who David Starsky was. He didn't want him as part of his life. Because… because…

There were reasons. He couldn't remember why. They weren't partners anymore---weren't friends anymore. Something bad had put an end to all of that.

Hutch's gut reaction was to get away. He made a sudden movement to get up but the hand that gently grabbed at his …stalled him. He found himself staring back at the strong emotion showing in the dark-haired cop's face. It immobilized him.

Jay started talking in a quiet voice. "Kenneth Hutchinson… this is Detective Sergeant David Starsky. You remember him, don't you? David and I are here to help you. Will you go with us now?" he asked Hutch.

"What?" Hutch said with offense, gazing down at the hold Detective Starsky had on him.

"_Will_ _you_ _go_--with us, right now?" Jay asked again.

"_No, I won't go with you!"_ Hutch guffawed at the absurd request. "I don't know what you're talking about. _What is this_?" he stated, pulling his hand back.

"All right," Jay said calmly. "We just wanted you to know that people who love you-- are here to help you. _You_ don't have to do anything. This whole charade is coming to an end. _Soon_."

Hutch watched the moisture gather in the corners of David Starsky's eyes. Jay abruptly stood up. "C'mon on, Dave, we gotta get out of here," he said firmly. Starsky, entranced by the presence of his partner, didn't budge. "C'mon, Dave." Practically lifting Starsky out of the chair, Jay put an arm around the cop in shock and led him out of the restaurant.

"I don't understand," Hutch spoke into the air after them.

"Why can't we just take him now? I don't get it!" Starsky, overheated, pushed back Jay's attempt to restrain him.

"He wasn't gonna go with us! What, do you want to make a big scene! We're out in the cold, man. Kidnap him in the middle of the busy after dinner coffee crowd. We'll end up in jail for sure and then Sonora will snatch up her makeshift family—go somewhere else. It'll take us months to find them again. You think he's got that long to live?" Jay said bluntly.

Starsky kicked at a nearby trashcan, sending it flying, spilling out its garbage as it rolled down the secluded alleyway.

"Dave, we found him. We're gonna wait. Wait for just the right minute to get him outta here, OK? Stay with me on this. We need to put a plan in motion. Get a safehouse, transport. It's not going to be easy… but you keep cool-- be patient. It's just a little while longer."

"_So, what was tonight all about? Huh?"_ Starsky spat out.

"Look, we're tryin' to shake things up. Every time he sees you is a chance to trigger some past memory. A thorn in his side.

We got him thinkin'. Pretty soon he'll be asking some questions Sonora won't be able to answer," Jay assured.

"You see him. _He's hurtin'_. How much more time do you think he's got!" Starsky yelled back.

"Trust me, man." Jay's quiet inflection was pure diplomacy.

Starsky, placated, responded, "Yeah…OK."

"Doesn't mean we don't do anything--- you've got a job to do. Gotta keep gettin' in his face. See if you can break through the wall he's got up. He coulda made a run for it tonight, but he didn't.

That's a good sign."

The two men both took note of a group of people curiously eyeing their conversation in the partially lit alley.

"Let's get out of here," Jay said. "You got a party to get ready for."

(tbc)


	6. Chapter 6

The Power of Love

Whatever he had dreamed, spooked him. Hutch stood in front of the bathroom mirror. Droplets of the cold water he had splashed on his face fell unnoticed to his chest. He was mesmerized by the three horizontal scars there. Maybe someday he would remember exactly how he got them. Sonora had told him they were from the car crash…maybe glass from the windshield…

At the moment though, he only wanted two things.

He needed the pounding in his head to stop. It was driving him crazy. If that couldn't happen, he definitely would like to stop the face of David Starsky from disrupting his lucidity. Ever since the evening at that little café, when the Bay City cop had held onto his hand like he was unable to let go, the officer's penetrating stare kept hijacking Hutch's attention. Why was a man he had left in the shadows of his past manifesting himself into Hutch's new life? It didn't make sense.

There was some unfinished business there. Had to be. Or, Hutch thought maybe he _was_ going crazy. David Starsky's presence upset Sonora, too, and Hutch didn't like it. His wife was the most important thing in his life. Anything—_anyone_ threatening her happiness was a threat to him, too.

He heard a light knock on the door.

"Uh-hmm," he responded as Sonora slipped into the bathroom.

"You're sick," she said, wrapping her arms around him. She laid a cheek on his bare back and then planted a tiny kiss there.

Hutch lowered his head in resignation, but he wouldn't admit to the headache or to his preoccupation with Detective Starsky.

Groggy with sleep, "Come back to bed," she told him, taking his hand.

**-ooooo-**

"Baby?" Sonora asked sweetly.

Hutch looked up from the book he was reading, putting it aside immediately to give her his attention.

"Do you know how much I love you?" she wondered out loud as she cozied up to him.

"Think you've told me only a million times, but you can tell me again." He pulled her into a secure embrace.

Searching her face, he thought she looked more than a little sad.

"Everything all right? Is it work?" he asked.

Hutch was told Sonora was director of an International Organization that helped to bring families back together: people misplaced by civil war, natural disaster evacuees, refugees, and helped to resettle them in new homes. All of this philanthropic work was funded by the Latrielle family, contributions, and grant money. It required a lot of Sonora's time to look for those contributions and that was why she worked unpredictable hours and took regular trips out of the country. A lot of networking happened at the late night dinners, meetings, and parties she attended. A few cocktails always loosened up the check writing hand, Sonora explained.

Dr. Archelaus had told him how Sonora shied away from discussing her altruistic endeavors and it made Hutch even prouder to know his wife was so humble about her good deeds. She was truly one of a kind-- a blessing.

Tonight, she looked tired, he thought. Probably exhausted from taking care of the rest of humanity, like the way she took care of him. Hutch was most proud to have a wife so dedicated to making the world a better place for those who didn't have all the privileges she was born with. It was a noble work.

Curling the tips of her thick black hair with his fingers, he told her, "You've been working too hard. You can't save the whole world by yourself, sweetheart "

"I don't want to talk about work," she said with a pout, resting her head against his neck.

"What's wrong, honey?" he asked.

"It's silly."

"What? Tell me." He said, gently encouraging her.

"Ken…do you think…that… sometimes…sometimes people wait too long to find out who they really are?"

"Well, I guess some people never find out. It's something I can _honestly_ say I relate to," he said with mild humor.

"No. I'm _not_ talking about you. You're perfect just as you are," she assured him.

He grinned back at her. "I'm glad you think so."

"I mean me…I, what if I…if I waited too long…and maybe what I used to be…maybe it's too late to change… and if I had made different choices…I mean…what if the world..." Sonora struggled to find the words to tell him how much she wished she had met him in New Orleans, instead of-- the truth.

How could she tell him who she really was and hope to keep him? Tell him that no matter how they came together – ultimately, they were perfect together. Could she tell him that her real life had begun the moment she started living a lie?

"You're trying to tell me you have a deep dark secret. Right?" he suggested, interrupting her stumbling to express her point.

"What if I did have one?" She said woefully.

Seeing that Sonora was getting upset, he leaned back to look in her eyes. " The only _world_ I care about is the one right here." He emphasized what he meant by laying his hand on her chest. He sighed. "Sonora, you've sacrificed everything to be with me. I know all you've given up to take care of me…day after day… working to get me back on my feet again. I don't take that for granted. Don't take you for granted. _Now_, if you think for one minute- -some slip up in your past…" He took her face in his hands. "Is gonna make me forget that I love you," his voice filled with emotion, "don't worry. I…_love you_. I don't care bout your past…just_ you_ _and me_ and the _present_." He kissed her softly on the lips. "And our future, _OK?"_ He quietly promised.

Her heart was filling with him…beating fast with the adrenaline only love can birth. The feeling was euphoric as he surrendered himself to her-- and she to his heated kisses.

Something clicked on inside her-- bringing with it a realization. It was as if she had lived her life operating on auxiliary power—but now all the lights were on and she was living on full voltage. The feeling she had always been searching for.

To belong-- to someone.

As a little girl, she could spend hours watching an insect she had trapped under a glass struggle in a desperate attempt to escape. Sometimes, she would find a bug that would live for days and it gave her great pleasure to know that only she had the power to let it live or squash it with her fist.

The exhilarating thing about torture for her had always been about the moment when she knew she had finally gotten her victim to turn over all the control to her. Giving to her--whatever she was seeking-- laying it neatly at her feet. Surrendering to her full authority. That was when she knew they belonged to her.

But, in that dungeon, Detective Hutchinson hadn't done that, and she had exhausted her capacity to continue to inflict damage on him-- drawing _her_ under _his_ control, because she was unable to go any further to force him to submit.

How had he beaten her?

That was the real reason she had stolen him away from his life -because she needed the answer to that question. And now?

After all the planning, the manipulation…the lies. It was love…_love_ that would finally bring her to a place of surrender. It was soul shattering and she found herself trembling in his arms.

"You OK?" he asked, releasing his hold to study her face. "Hey?" Absolute concern was evident in his voice.

"Nothing. I love you," she said, tears glistening in her eyes.

He thought she looked like an angel and gave her a big smile.

Hutch encircled protective arms around her. "I know," he said.

**-ooooo-**

The doctor had been standing in the shadows of the garden watching his lab experiment. Detective Hutchinson.

Dr. Archelaus had fiddled around with the compounds and had administered a higher dose of his trial and error drug to the cop earlier that morning. The officer seemed to be having a problem with the newest concoction.

Standing in the middle of the lush flowering garden, hands thrust in the bulky sweater's pockets, the detective appeared shaky and disoriented.

Dr. Archelaus crept out from his place of concealment and, as he approached his patient, called out lightly, " Everything all right, Ken?"

"No… I'm…I'm fine. Just…I-I guess I've been pushing myself a little too much." Ken Hutchinson blinked repeatedly as he seemed to take another minute to steady himself. "S-S-Sonora has me scheduled for a nap but…I- I…just... just wanted to get some…sun. Ahh…some reason I really find it peaceful out here…in…the garden." Then, in a distant voice, as he fumbled to remove one of his hands out of the sweater, "Something about the...the...green reminds me…reminds…" He paused, "Coming out here and seeing what's happened overnight-- new blossoms, new life. I…it's silly I guess." Hutch apologized, feeling self-conscious about his meandering thoughts.

"No, it's not silly. I rather like it here myself. Very peaceful… connecting you with nature right at its root," the doctor replied.

"Yeah, connected to…some...someone...to…" Bewildered, he paused again, running a hand through his hair. "…and…ahh…oh… yes.. I just want to…thank you…"

The doctor immediately cut off Hutch's effort, knowing that he had done nothing but harm to the officer. "NO! No thanks necessary," he said with finality.

"No… you've been a good friend--support for Sonora and now to…to me." Hutch continued with some difficulty, "I-I'm sorry. I c-c-can't remember more about what kind of relationship we had… but I do want you…want you to know I-I appreciate the care you've given me…"

The doctor cast his eyes away from him.

Hutch gave him a pat on the arm. "Really. It means a lot to me…"

Sonora entered the garden and the doctor, grateful to have the conversation come to an end, quickly turned the attention to her arrival by announcing, "_AAHHHH, here she is!"_ in an excited voice. The warm words had disturbed him.

Hutch turned to greet his wife.

Why was every time like seeing her for the first time? 

His heart fluttered and a broad full smile took over his face. He reached for her immediately, bowing his head to give her a kiss on the cheek.

**-ooooo-**

The dark-haired cop's eyes rested on her--undeniably the most beautiful woman in the large ballroom. Hutch in a designer tux, handsome as always, although he looked tired. By his side was Sonora in an off the shoulder beet red satin and velvet gown. Her dark wild curls cascaded dramatically down the backless dress.

Most people couldn't take their eyes off the striking couple-- that included Starsky. They were like night and day making a visitation. Hutch, golden and light, and, Sonora, dark and stormy.

Anyone watching them could see there was a sweet intimacy between them, but only Starsky, August, Sonora, and the Monster knew it was fueled by manipulation firmly applied to Hutch's brain and maintained by specially designed drugs.

Starsky felt his stomach churn in response to the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Hutchinson. It was downright painful to watch the room full of the upper crust of society fawn over the woman who had almost killed his partner.

Jay told him the annual Winter Gala was the biggest event of the year. The richest and most prominent citizens from all the surrounding provinces were regulars at the $5000 a plate fundraiser. The Bay City team had worked magic to get their hands on two invitations. Jay thought it would be another chance for Starsky to try and meet up with Hutch and rattle his cage.

Feeling uncomfortable in the ill-fitting tuxedo August found for him at the last minute, Starsky tugged at the collar of the white shirt he felt was strangling him.

Starsky was well aware he had to use any and every opportunity to get close to his friend. It was an important exercise in getting his partner back. His hope was that his presence would shake loose some lost memory for Hutch and bring an end to the nightmare. Whatever it took he'd do--even if he had to deal with the snickering glances from the high society types who were probably wondering how the heck he got an invite to the ball.

August leaned over, looping his arm in hers. Smiling, she surveyed the room and reprimanded him quietly. "Relax, huh? You look like a mad dog ready to take a run out the gate."

That managed to get his attention and Starsky relaxed his stance. "All right," he said, giving her back a phony smile. Just then he saw Hutch separate himself from Sonora as he made his way to the men's room.

"Be right back," Starsky said to August, hurrying his way toward the long staircase that would take him to where Hutch went.

"Careful," she whispered after him.

The sight of massive pecs resting across M's chest was just the picture Starsky needed to accept reality. It was pure fantasy to believe the Monster would allow the cop from Bay City to waltz by him and into the men's room. So Starsky had discreetly waved down August, who had taken a position on a balcony that allowed her to keep an eye on him.

The two conspirators quickly worked out a strategy of distraction.

It was a good plan.

August pulled at her gown to reveal a sizeable bit more cleavage.

Starsky watched her straighten her shoulders and sashay va-voom hips as she made her way toward the hallway that led to the bathrooms.

The FBI agent's expertly executed trip, while spilling the contents of her purse, was spectacular. Starsky wondered if it was possible to make clumsy look like a sexy invitation, August had definitely accomplished it. The giant moved gallantly to help the fallen damsel.

"Oh, I must have caught my heel… _I'm such a klutz_," August said, feigning embarrassment.

"Wow. That was quite –-ah…I mean…"

"I know." August cut him off. "Walk much? _Right?_ I've heard them all before--_the_ _clumsy jokes_ . Go 'head and laugh. I know you want to." She laid the _poor me_ on thick to keep her mark's attention.

Monster got down on one knee as he helped her to sit up. "I wasn't makin' fun."

She gave him a disbelieving frown.

"Serious." He confirmed. "Are ya hurt?"

"Not sure—may have twisted my ankle," she played on, showing off the leg with the fictitious injury. "Guess I lost my shoe…" She deliberately leaned over to press more cleavage to the top of her tightly fitted jade colored silk dress.

M's eyes got caught up with her movement. When he realized he was looking where he shouldn't be and that she was looking at him sneak a peek, his cheeks turned red. He cleared his throat and asked her, "Can you get up?"

"I think so… just need my…"

"Y—your _shoe?"_ M reported. "I see it." Moving to get it, he turned his back to the bathroom.

"Oh, no!" she cried out frantically. "I've lost the pearl!"

M turned to her. "What?"

"The pearl. _The Pearl._ I lost it," she said, frantically feeling around on the floor.

"_Pearl?"_

"From my great-grandmother's ring," she said, barely giving the bodyguard an opportunity to see the ringed finger she waved in his direction.

August, on all fours, scrambled around on the highly polished tile, while a wide-eyed M held her silver stiletto shoe precariously from a digit of his massive hand.

"Help me," she pleaded. "It's been in my family for decades. Please!"

"OK. _OK_," Monster told the stressing woman. "What is it?"

"A pearl, you know? _Pearl._" She explained, giving him a sour face.

"Right," M said, looking exasperated as he canvassed the long length of the walkway.

She was really laying it on, Starsky thought. Using the experience gained from years of fine tuned police work, Starsky knew the sound of opportunity when he heard it.

The detective grinned at the agent's success at occupying the giant while he quietly sneaked into the men's room.

The Monster had fallen into the trap like a mouse pouncing on cheese. Starsky had no doubt August would have the giant searching for the nonexistent missing pearl, an heirloom from a "great-grand mother" that was a figment from the agent's imagination, long enough to give Starsky a few more precious minutes to try and get through to his partner.

Starsky gained entry to the bathroom just as Hutch was washing his hands.

Hutch looked up at him, carefully trying to mask his nervous suspicion, as Starsky entered the room and made his way toward him.

"Mr. Hutchinson," Starsky greeted him as he stood blocking Hutch's quickest exit from the room.

"Detective," Hutch replied with slight annoyance as he straightened his tie, keeping his eyes on the mirror in front of him instead of on the newest visitor to the men's room.

"Looks like you and _your wife_ are having a good time this evening."

Hutch played it cool. He continued fiddling with the tie for a minute

but the piercing blue stare of the dark haired man rattled him. It was obvious the Bay City cop wasn't just trying to make small talk and, Hutch, now irked by his presence, was ready to find out why this man was stalking him. He whipped around to confront the detective, his ex-partner, who had obviously followed him into the men's room.

"**What** is this all about? _Money?_ Is that what you're after? Huh? _What is it?"_

Starsky hesitated before he responded. "This ain't got nothing to do with money."

"No?" Hutch questioned in disbelief as he boldly stepped forward to bring home his point.

Starsky could see the uncertainty in his partner's face belying his combative demeanor.

"Leave us alone," Hutch said harshly.

"Why is it I bother you so much?"

"Detective **Starsky**, _you_ makin' my wife unhappy is reason enough."

"I'm not going anywhere. I promised ya." 

The words unnerved Hutch and a picture of the dark haired detective's sorrowful expression at the coffeehouse flashing behind his eyes made him blink.

Hutch swallowed hard as he moved to walk by the man blocking his exit.

Starsky didn't budge. They stood face to face.

"Hutch?"

The nickname brought a puzzled look to the man trying to leave.

There was a rumble inside him.

_Hutch?_

_Yeah. Hutch._

It felt good to hear the familiar sound of it. _Hutch_. It was strange-- he thought of himself as Hutch-- even though no one in his life called him that. The feeling of intimacy birthed in him by hearing it spoken so softly by his ex-partner was weird. Like they shared a secret. It made him uncomfortable. "_What do you want from__ me?"_ he asked defensively.

"Did you ever think I might want to give you sumpthin'?" was Starsky's reply.

Hutch pensively weighed the words as he scrutinized the man who obstructed his way out.

M's croaked out command "Mr. H," interrupted them. At once both men's attention went to the bodyguard.

M, apparently no longer searching for the fictitious pearl, was now standing just inside the large bathroom near the only entrance or exit. The rigid tensing of the muscles in his broad jaw gave Starsky a "try-it-and-die" promise. M was the most imposing thing Starsky had seen up close. It wasn't just his gargantuan size and posture but the clear message he sent with just a flex of muscles. Frankly the man frightened Starsky, who already knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of those bone crushing giant hands. Not the type of guy to play with. But, it wasn't like Sonora or M to play dirty in public. Surely, the Monster had enough P's & Q's to not spill blood in front of so many of Sonora's admirers.

Still, Starsky halted all the smart comments popping into his head. He knew when he started out searching for Hutch, he would once again come face to waist with the man who had almost taken his life with the squeeze of just one of his giant hands. He'd already had a couple of run-ins with the bodyguard and didn't think M would appreciate too many more beyond coincidences.

Starsky knew the risk but had decided that nothing, not M, not fear of M or any other thing would stop him from saving Hutch from the clutches of Sonora. If it meant putting his life on the line, he would only be giving back to Hutch what Hutch had given for him.

The two cops exchanged another long stare.

Hutch looked away first. "Excuse me," Hutch said curtly, shouldering his way past Starsky, he left the dark-haired cop standing alone in the ornately decorated men's room.

Sighing out heavily, Starsky sagged against the cool marble wall. Had he made a crack in the dam? Had he unsettled his partner? Jay's elaborate plan was zapping the last of Starsky's resolve. Chipping at the mountain-- piece by piece wasn't his style. Actually, it was more like Hutch's. How many times had Hutch, during a difficult case they were working, told him, "Starsk, ya got no patience." Hutch would lay out this step by step plan to turn the heat up under some two bit hood.

Starsky wished Hutch could tell him now… what he had to do. Step by step to bring down the Everest between them.

Mumbling in frustration, the lean officer bounced off the tiled wall and followed them back out into the ballroom.

Starsky watched as M practically escorted Hutch to the seat next to Sonora at one of the elegantly decorated tables set aside for the most elite guests.

M whispered something to her and Starsky saw Sonora's gaze rise to meet his. She said something to the bodyguard, which even though he couldn't read lips, looked like something along the line of "What's he doing here?" He could see her mouth tighten but she smiled attentively when Hutch put an arm around her.

Starsky scanned the room for August.

The activity level of the room had picked up considerably. Waiters and waitresses, carrying huge trays piled high with silver domed dishes, had invaded the space. Some people were seated. Many more were still standing and chatting loudly as the pings of china clinking against china rang out from everywhere.

Reaching over to squeeze her husband's thigh, Sonora gave him a pondering glance. "Everything all right?"

Hutch nodded his head, dismissing her inquiry.

"Sure?" she pursued quietly.

"I think…Detective Starsky just hit on me," Hutch said into her ear, causing a loud laugh to escape her. Hutch looked a little surprised at her response and then laughed, too. She hushed them both and they shook their heads as they grinned at each other.

Starsky saw the animated exchange from a distance. He couldn't watch them anymore

Starsky located August just as she prepared to lift up a fluted glass of champagne from the tray of a black and white outfitted cocktail server. He grabbed August and started briskly working their way through the crowd of people to the outside. The angry, red-faced cop ripped off his tie as he marched quickly through the garden trail back to the car.

"Wait, hold up. What happened?" August asked as she moved in front of him in an attempt to slow him down.

"He don't know anything's wrong. That's what happened! It's like I'm the outsider invading his paradise…I don't know… It's like he's happy here…"

"Don't even…" She shook him hard. "What, she brainwashing you, too? Get a grip. Your friend doesn't belong here. It's a lie. If _Hutch _was standing here, right now-would he want you to leave him with that…that…witch. She's a-a, a _blood sucking nightmare in heels!" _

Starsky couldn't help grinning widely. "Now _that's_ an accurate description."

Snickering at her own words, she smiled back. "Hey, I call 'em like I see 'em. Come on, let's get outta here. I found this fantastic local pub that serves up great sandwiches and _coleslaw_…might even be able to find you something with pepperoni on it."

Starsky hung back, turning to look at the festively lit event. He had to leave Hutch behind again. That was getting harder and harder to do.

-**ooooo-**

"That…Detective…Starsky?" Hutch questioned.

"What about him?" Sonora replied flatly.

"We had a falling out?"

"Yes, a long time ago. Why are you asking?" The sound of annoyance in her voice protested the direction of the conversation.

"I don't remember why, that's all. I—I..."

Snuggling up close to Hutch, Sonora softened her tone. "Honey, I _know_ it bothers you when you can't remember these things from the past. I wish I could provide all the details…but from what I understand the problems between you two started way before I was on the scene. Now, I have to admit your partner and I never hit it off. The fact that he hardly visited you in the hospital after the crash is a particular sore spot for me. Sometimes…_sometimes_, there are just a lot of reasons why friendships fall apart. His showing up in our lives now is quite a mystery to me. Seeing him—obviously upsets you and I think…_I think_--you should stay as far away from him as possible. We have good life together. _Please,_ don't let _anyone_ spoil that. All right?" Her big eyes pleading to him made Hutch weak.

"All right," he quickly agreed. The whole thing with the detective did make him feel discomposed anyway and he didn't mind at all following Sonora's suggestion to keep the cop from Bay City out of their lives.

"Now, can you help me out of this dress?" she asked.

To describe the grin he gave her as mischievous, would be an understatement

**-ooooo-**

Married to the Mob

"What is it you're so afraid of?" he said pulling up the expensive Egyptian cotton sheet to cover her.

"That…things will change between us," Sonora said with sad detachment.

"Things are changing everyday," he offered, shifting his position in the bed to get closer to her.

She looked at him confused.

"Sonora, love is always telling us something new, isn't it?" He pressed his face to her neck, breathing in her scent deeply. "Sometimes I think I know everything about you and then I notice something new." Gliding a finger down her collarbone, he said, "Like this morning, I just discovered you have this tiny mole on your neck, here." He lightly planted a kiss there.

She sighed." Why do have to make everything so…"

"So what?" Pushing her back on the bed, he raised his head to study her face.

"So…damn romantic!" She giggled, her mood changed. She threw her arms around his head bringing him to her lips and giving him a breathy kiss. Then she gently pushed him away. "You wont' forget me. Will you?"

The odd statement made him sit up. "Why would you say that?"

Sonora tried to play down her strange question. "Nothing. Nothing. I'm just being silly. I mean I-I almost lost you once."

"Oh, _the accident_, " Hutch said quietly.

Sonora had been through so much since the accident that had wrecked havoc on their lives.

She had put aside everything in her life to help him work on his recovery. It was bad enough she had to deal with a cop's wife's everyday fears. Afraid of the late night call telling her something horrible had happened to her husband. And, one night something _had_ gone terribly wrong, when in hot pursuit of a suspect, Hutch had slammed his car into a highway guardrail. Sonora said he had totaled his car and smashed his skull into pieces in the failed attempt to apprehend a man suspected of armed robbery.

He had survived all the other internal injuries. His career as a cop had ended that night. The strange scars on his chest and a head that felt like it was full of marbles -- consolation gifts. Hutch didn't remember anything about the accident. For that matter, he didn't remember anything about his life in California, or his youth in Minnesota. There were two very awkward phone calls with his parents. He didn't know how to respond to their invasive questions about Sonora and his marriage. Some harsh words about Sonora had made him angry and he'd hung up on them. His wife had peeled the phone out of his grip. "It's all right, sweetheart, we've got enough family with me and you, and Poppi, and M. You never know, a grandchild could change their attitude," she told him.

More than one person had told him how Sonora had rarely left his side during the months of his recovery. He was thankful in a way that he didn't remember the impact of the car and all that 'your life passing before your eyes' stuff…or much of anything about the hospital. But he could only imagine all that his wife had endured. Hutch didn't know what vocation was ahead but was certain--He would never be a cop again – the doctors would never agree to it and Hutch would never put his wife through it, even if it was a possibility.

He didn't have one great memory from the years of being a Bay City cop and that was OK with him because he had a good life with the woman he loved. If only Dr. Archelaus could find a cure for the headaches.

His eyes watered when he told her, "I'm…sorry. You had to go through all this. I wish it had never happened."

Sonora could see guilt on his face, the weight of it dropped his shoulders.

It made her feel strange. Things were getting too complicated. She wasn't able to control everything like she had planned. She had not expected to have feelings of guilt or shame. She was feeling sorry for him again and what she had done to him. This just wasn't like her. It made her weak.

She had to get her thoughts straight before she did something stupid. This fantasy couldn't last forever.

Extricating herself from his embrace, she scooted off the bed and rushed out of the bedroom door.

"Sonora!" he called after her.

What had he put her through? 

Had he forgotten how sensitive she was? He tried to remember how things were between them before… and he couldn't.

_Oh. _This was probably what she had meant when she asked if he would forget her.

Apparently, he had forgotten things about them…about her. And he was powerless to do anything about it.

He was sickly and pathetic… couldn't work. Couldn't drive…only able to putter around the garden like an old man… but she had stayed by him--selfless and dedicated to support a useless husband. What had she lost? What did he forget?

He knew they were married for three years before the accident--that he had met her while vacationing in New Orleans. Her family had money. Her father, being a financial wizard, made his millions in the International Money Markets, and had died years ago. Dr.Archelaus had practically adopted Sonora and had been there for her--for both of them-- through the whole ordeal of his recuperation.

Hutch knew that he had been a cop for several years before he met her. That Detective Starsky had been his partner for some of that time… but those were just details.

What he had been told. Because he couldn't remember.

Dr. Archelaus had told him how Sonora had nursed him back to health--by his bedside day and night. She had taken him out of the hospital after doctors had given up on any hope for his recovery.

And he remembered that. Didn't he?

Holding on to her… in her arms…reaching for her. The pain and so many strange dreams…Dr. Archelaus's face… a cold room… the aggressive brightness of fluorescent light...

He could feel the pounding starting in the back of his head, the pain increasing with every pulse, and his heart was picking up that same quickened beat. Not being able to catch his breath – he stood up, hoping to stop what was coming.

Why did this keep happening? Why wasn't he getting better? Sonora needed him now--to be her husband. Not this shell of a man with a shell of a memory.

_Where was Starsky? _

_**I'll find you, Hutch. I promise, hear me, I'll find you!**_

_What?_

It was like the peculiar thought and the power of it took him down and, when he blinked and opened his eyes, he was on the floor. He felt the convulsions and saw the broken lamp and other items from the dresser scattered around him.

Hutch heard the sound of running feet and then a rushing white noise flooded his reality.

He could feel her arms around him.

Sonora had heard the crash from the hallway and ran back into the room to find her husband's body wracked by tremors, prostrate on the hardwood floor. She scooped up the fallen man into her arms.

Sonora couldn't hold back the tears as she held him. Petitioning Dr. Archelaus, she begged, _"Please help him, Poppi!"_ As a young girl she had used the endearment of "Poppi" to show her reverence for the role of father the doctor played in her life. It sometimes slipped out here and there and Ken had once told her she sounded like a spoiled little girl whenever she did say it. It came out so naturally as she pleaded with him now to help the man in her arms.

"Daughter, let's just end this. You've had your fun. Now let's just get rid of him…before something terrible happens," the doctor urged. "He's a cop, you remember that!"

"Help him!" Sonora demanded.

"Sonora. There's nothing I can do. I told you – you were playing with fire! " The doctor snapped at her as he loosened the collar of Hutch's shirt. "I can give him another shot," he huffed roughly, "…but sooner or later..."

"Just do it. _Please!"_ she cried.

"This is crazy," the doctor mumbled. Reaching inside this jacket, he brought out a small black case. He removed a syringe from it. Scolding her, he said, "Sonora, you are only prolonging the inevitable."

"Just give it to him. I'm not ready to let him go. Not now."

"Damn it, child! If your father could see you now," he sputtered. "He'd turn over in his grave…a cop…"

She held onto Hutch, as Dr. Archelaus administered the shot. They exchanged glowering looks as they waited the several minutes for his body to relax.

"Help me get him into bed," she instructed the older man. They struggled to get the officer onto the bed.

Sonora called down to the kitchen and asked for them to bring up some orange juice and cold water. Just as quickly as she hung up, there was a light knock on the door, and she told the young girl to put the tray on the table next to the bed and leave.

Finally, Sonora, looking into the doctor's face, asked, "Why is this happening?"

Answering in a paternal voice that matched the fatherly love he had for her, he whispered to her, "Child, I _told_ you… the drug is experimental. Every time he fights it--tries to stir up the past it could have devastating effects. I'm not sure what the trigger is… that causes this reaction, these convulsions. I have _never _attempted to use this drug long term on anyone. I don't have the answers you're looking for. Could be…" he lowered his voice even more, "the psychiatric medication we're giving him to keep him disoriented might also be causing these adverse reactions..."

Hutch's loud groan ended the hushed conversation. " What…what happened?" he asked weakly.

"You had another episode. Poppi gave you something to relax you," Sonora said as she signaled the doctor to leave the room. "Everything's all right now." She slipped under Hutch's shoulders and lifted him into her lap. Retrieving the glass of orange juice off the bed table, she offered, "Here, sweetheart, I have some nice, cold, fresh squeezed juice for you." Sonora tilted the glass to his mouth and Ken drank almost all of it. His mouth was so dry.

She put the glass down and returned her attention to him.

His eyes quickly filling with tears, he told her, "Thissss…isn't right," he said, trying not to break the little composure he had left. "You deserve so much more…I'm not getting any better."

"SShh," she told him.

Disobeying her, he continued, "Y-You…you call your attorney… have him draw up papers…and I'll give you a divorce. I don't want anything…you deserve to b-- be happy…" he slurred.

"SSShh. I said," Sonora repeated in a mocking scolding tone. "I like my last name as it is. So, you be quiet, _Mr. Hutchinson_. Rest now. Just hush before I give you one of these," holding a shaking fist to his face.

He couldn't help but let out a weak laugh, as he tiredly fought to not give in to the sobs he was holding back.

"OK…I'm too beat to fight you, that's for sure. You win this time," he said grinning tiredly.

"_I always win_. Remember that. _I always get what I want_," Sonora said in a determined and chilly voice. He had never heard it sound like that.

Slipping off, the strange tone in her last sentence stayed with him. There was something penetrating in it…but he just wanted to sleep. Rest in Sonora's arms, the warmth of her tiny body radiating under him.

It was exactly where he wanted to be…

Not in the lost past. Just here with her arms wrapped around him.

ooooo

_The detective was shivering-- his gaunt face peppered in black and blue--the hollow effect in his eyes--terrified as he watched her. In one of her hands was the glass of orange pulpy liquid and a roll of sweetbread on a small plate in the other. _

_She had a thick brown and green blanket draped over her arm. Smiling at him warmly, she placed the glass and the little plate on the cement floor in front of him. _

_Hutch wanted the liquid in the glass terribly. Couldn't understand why he couldn't move to it. He was so afraid. Afraid of her. Afraid to move…afraid to decide to move… afraid to think about moving. Every thought spiraling him further into the unnatural fearfulness that possessed him._

_Overwhelmed because he wanted the bread and the juice and blanket._

_She had the blanket, and it was so cold…_

_She slid closer to him, offering up the blanket as it lay draped over both her arms. The need for it instigated more violent shaking from him. Unable to make a move, he started to cry. Hutch looked to her-- questioning what he should…could do._

_It was the moment she was waiting for. Her eyes were dancing joyfully._

_He was all hers._

_"No worries, my love," she said to him. She moved closer to him and he allowed her to wrap the blanket around his shoulders. The woman gently tugged at the hands he held clasped to his chest. The cop started to whimper, his teeth chattering in fear and frigidity._

_She wasn't sure if he was aware of the lighting shifting in the small room to a golden hue- instead of its usual stark whiteness or if he could feel the warming change in temperature ... but she heard him take in a deep gasp of air as she made the human contact …encircling his head with a warm hand she pulled him, after some resistance, to her chest._

_"I'm here now, to take of you," she said in a singsong voice. " Would you like some sweetbread? Here." She picked up the little plate, ripping off a piece of the roll, putting it to the corner of his mouth. "It's OK...let's eat it, hmm?" Lifting up his head to her, Hutch slightly opened his mouth to the food. She pulled up a corner of the blanket. Dabbing away the tears on his face, she took a piece of bread and popped it into her own mouth._

_"Hmmm, that's sooo good, isn't it?" she asked him. He nodded cautiously. _

_"Some more?" she said encouragingly. He cast his eyes over at the glass, settling his gaze there._

_"Juice?" she asked him._

_He never wanted anything more._

_"Of course-- you must be thirsty." She said, holding up the glass to his lips. _

_The chilled sweetness of the pulpy liquid almost made his tears return. It was the most delicious thing he'd ever had-- and he gulped it down, thankfully holding onto her hand and the glass like it was life itself. When he finished drinking, he looked at her and then down hungrily at the dish._

_"That's it. Good boy," Sonora cooed._

_This was going to be easy. He couldn't make a decision to eat without her permission._

_Everything was coming together as planned._

_"We're family now. You and I," she explained to him. "I'll take care of you. I'll take care of everything. You'll see." She promised, tucking the blanket tighter around him. _

**(tbc)**


	7. Chapter 7

Normally, it would have been the type of assignment Starsky would have fully enjoyed. Here he was on stake out, in the back seat of a limo, in the arms of a very attractive female FBI agent officer. They were pretending to be an amorous couple who couldn't keep their hands off each other. On this day though, with August, his body pressed against hers, was the last place he wanted to be.

Starsky wished he was back at the safehouse with Hutch guardedly in his care.

But they all were on the job, and he tried to stop himself from sitting up and joining Jay in his "Sonora and Hutch" watching.

Jay discreetly lowered his binoculars. "Dave, he looks bad."

Starsky sighed heavily and August ran a sympathetic hand up and down his arm.

Jay kept talking. "We need to make a move _soon_."

The woman agent fidgeting uncomfortably underneath the weight of Starsky's body, asked, "How are we gonna grab him when that _wall_ of a bodyguard is never more than a few feet away?"

The group of rescuers had spent days monitoring Hutch's and Sonora's comings and goings and each of them was worn out from the grueling surveillance work of trying to be close to the mark--but invisible.

The safehouse was ready- that's where Huggy was. Now, all they needed was to get Hutch there somehow so Jay could begin the hard work of giving him back his true identity. Deprogram him.

Shaking out a cramp in his leg, Starsky concluded, "We're gonna have to…separate them. Create some kind of disturbance."

"Yeah. I was just thinking the same thing," Jay agreed wholeheartedly as he peeked at the dark-haired cop and the female agent in his rear view mirror. Turning the car on and sitting up to play out his role of chauffeur to the lustful couple in the backseat of the limo, he said to them, "Let's get back to the house. Plan something for tomorrow. Every day he's behind doors with Sonora and that doctor of hers is another day for something really bad to happen."

The look on Starsky's face immediately made Jay regret expressing his concerns out loud.

August gave the back of the man behind the wheel a harsh look in return for his irresponsible statement.

"It's OK, Dave, we'll get him," Jay added, hoping to repair the damage, while he flashed in the mirror a 'sorry-for-the-dumb- comment-please-forgive-me-smile' to the woman evil-eyeing him.

Starsky raised his body off the lady cop. August, also sitting up, straightened out her clothes and offered encouragement. "Yeah, David, we'll think of something."

Starsky nodded absentmindedly, his thoughts plagued by fear for Hutch. He prayed his friend would make it through another night.

_Hold on, Hutch. One more night, buddy. Hold on._

_-_ooooo-

Out of the Mist

Jay, speaking quietly into the walkie-talkie, gave Huggy the signal.

Huggy wasn't thrilled about putting himself in the pathway of Sonora's Monster and Hutch's new permanent companion, but he would do anything to put things right again for his two friends.

It was the first time since Hutch had been missing that Huggy had been within a few feet of the sorely missed member of the dynamic duo and his heart ached to see the condition he was in.

Hutch always had a kind of lively glow about him-- that was gone. In its place was a vacant hurt look that almost brought the tears in Huggy's eyes to run down his chilled cheeks. He silently prayed the light was only dimmed and not out forever.

Hutch's inner brilliance was as bright, striking and bold as the luminous blond hair on his head that often drew folks to tag the color as a name to call him by. He was a light in the world. His hair, sometimes carrying the glow of the sun in it, served as a reminder of that.

Huggy just couldn't bear the thought of the man he had grown to cherish to be extinguished like a candle blown out by an unexpected gust of cold wind.

He also couldn't bear to think of a Starsky without a Hutch. The dark-haired cop was barely hanging on by a thread. The last few months had beaten down the normally exuberant man Huggy called friend. So Huggy was well aware how important it was to get his part of this operation right. If he didn't get it right, one dark-haired detective might very well blow a gasket and have to be sent home to Bay City strapped down into a wheelchair -- drool cup under his chin.

He returned his concentration to Ken Hutchinson.

Even from a distance, Huggy could see how Hutch thoughtfully engaged in conversations with Sonora and her bodyguard. Easily offering a hand here or a touch there to express his absolute presence in their lives. That was the Hutch he knew.

Huggy smiled to himself. So the Grand Dame of the criminal underground had not been able to destroy one of his missed friend's other defining attributes.

It was peculiar to the barkeep that after all his years on the street that Hutch had been able to hold on to it. It was hard to explain the gentleness that seemed to imbue his demeanor.

It was the presence of simple goodness.

Huggy's grandmother, Nalene, had been strict about him getting his education. The 82 year old would sit down with the eight year old Horatio later to be known as Huggy Bear. She would pull out the big black book and point to a word inside. Horatio would have to read that word out loud. Reading the definition over and over again until he could repeat it --recite it out loud without looking in the book. His grandmama told him learnin' words would make life easier for a boy like him. A child who had lost a mother to pneumonia and a father to the streets. She explained to him some day grandma wouldn't be there for him—but, she said, "them words gonna take you the rest of the way, boy, hear me--don't n'ver forget 'em."

Right now he was remembering one of those words-- mouthing the definition, he recited it to himself—**goodness** --_in man is not a mere passive quality, but the deliberate preference of right to wrong, the firm and persistent resistance of all moral evil, and the choosing and following of all moral good. _

Grandmama Nalene would sure be proud.

The sometimes testy disposition of Starsky's partner didn't fool Huggy. He knew it was goodness that shined through Hutch as he generously expressed his commitment and devotion to the people in his life. A squeeze of his hand transmitted it quietly.

"_I'm here for you," it pronounced._

When Huggy had first met the cop from Minnesota, he had said to himself, _"A few years out here- nobody at home's gonna recognize that guy. These streets gonna beat that right outta him." _

But it didn't happen. Over the years, Huggy realized he didn't know everything about Ken Hutchinson. Didn't know how tough, steady, and brave the guy was. The kid from Minnesota had a constant unchanging nature that wasn't going down without a fight.

Ken Hutchinson wouldn't let the streets strip him of who he was meant to be. Huggy had respected him for that… but now…

Someone had taken his friend's spirit captive and now Ken Hutchinson was a man going down fast.

So…Huggy would risk getting way too close to the Monster. He'd throw himself in the path of danger. Do whatever it took. He wanted some of that _light _back in this life and Starsky surely needed it.

The barkeeper on a mission pedaled the bike nearer to where they all stood.

Hutch was opening the car door for Sonora, who readied to get in the white pristine 1950 vintage Rolls Royce. The Monster was putting the last of the shopping bags filled with expensive new outfits for his missus into the trunk

Huggy navigated in his mind how close he needed to get to Sonora to snatch the satin black and pearl clutch out of her hand, and how far enough away he needed to be from the giant monster's claws to accomplish the goal--a good long chase down the cobblestone back streets from the bodyguard and his socialite mob boss. Their chase to retrieve her stolen purse hopefully would leave Hutch behind for Jay and Starsky to pluck him out of enemy hands and deposit him into the waiting van and back to the safehouse.

Now, purse snatching wasn't his specialty. Not to say as a young kid he hadn't foolishly made a few tries at the get rich quick stunt, but never felt good about it afterwards.

This time though, he would feel like a million bucks.

-ooooo-

Watching from the van, Starsky thought the whole scene could have been comical.

The expressions on the shocked faces as Huggy successfully plucked the purse from Sonora was memorable. Seeing the giant drop the bags he was trying to fit in the trunk, practically tripping and falling forward to the ground as he thunderously took off after the_ purse snatcher, _also was unforgettable. Sonora racing after them with her billowing long skirt held hiked up in a firm grip was permanently ingrained and should have brought a smirk to Starsky's face.

It all might have been very funny, if he didn't have to see Hutch take off after the group--only to immediately falter, and stumble weakly to the ground.

The fall catapulted Starsky out of the van and to his ill friend's side.

Hutch was seeing double. He shut his eyes and tried to figure out if he was sitting or kneeling. He was aware he was on the ground and that shouldn't be.

The banging inside his head announced it had been a major mistake to try and run after them. He knew it wasn't a good idea to begin with but he wanted to make sure she wasn't in any danger. Sonora had told him to stay there and wait. The shooting pain was the direct result of his noncompliance.

The detective from Bay City, his ex-partner, had appeared out of no where and held on to him through the painful episode.

The man who had rushed to his side was rubbing a hand up and down his back as Hutch struggled to get his breath back. As his muscles dutifully relaxed, the pain subsided a bit. Feeling a strange familiarity between the two of them, he weakly tried to push David Starsky away.

"S'all right --I'm here," Detective Starsky whispered to him.

He raised his eyes to the man he thought was stalking him, but looking at the person who used to be his friend, only caused the drumming pain in his head to pulse more fiercely and he pushed the cop away again. This time the officer sitting back on his heels released him. Starsky kept a troubled intense gaze on him and Hutch wanted to get away from it and the man the stare belonged to.

"Just…just…back off. Kay? Please…n-need a minute," Hutch said.

"Right," Starsky answered despairingly.

The sound of the van screeching to a halt jarred Starsky. Jay waving anxiously yelled out, "Let's get going! Right! No tellin' how long we got."

Starsky called back," Justa minute." He listened to his friend trying to ration his breathing to ease the pain. His own breath held captive by Hutch's attempts to quell the agony. An attempt that failed when Hutch struggled to get up.

Starsky caught his partner just as he tumbled into unconsciousness.

-ooooo-

Hutch woke with an exhausted grunt. Feeling the gentle wash of coolness on his face, he opened his eyes expecting to see his wife Sonora instead of the scrutinizing glare of the eight eyes that ogled him. A tall familiar-looking thin black man, his ex-partner, that guy Jay from the coffee shop and a woman he didn't know were all peering down at him like they were watching the aftermath of an accident.

No Sonora, no M, or Dr. Archelaus.

He wanted to move away from them, but just even the thought of moving hurt, so he did nothing. Their voices were muffled as Hutch watched the faces turn to one another as they talked over him. He didn't know what they were saying. But it was about him.

"S-sonora?" he asked them. He wanted his wife.

She was the only one who understood his pain. Knew how to comfort him. So beautiful and good. He needed her. She was like an angel. They needed to get his wife.

"Sonora?" The volume of his voice was weak-- but surely someone would call her. He looked at _that_ Detective.

_That cop should get my wife, please._

Maybe they had called her already.

_She's coming._

The thought made him feel like it was going be all right.

Sonora. Sonora…Son…or…

-ooooo-

When he awoke again, he didn't know how long it had been, but nothing had changed. He forced his head to move so his eyes could take in the whole room.

No. Something wasn't right. As he attempted to move, the cold tug of the metal on his left arm confirmed it.

_No._

Starsky said guiltily, "Sorry, buddy."

What the hell is going on here? 

"Sorry," Starsky told him again. "Trust me, huh? Everything's gonna be OK."

"Trust?" Hutch mumbled groggily before falling back to sleep.

-ooooo-

Starsky had opposed handcuffing Hutch to the bed. At the moment he was feeling tremendous regret about not listening to Jay's insistence they take all precautions.

After a loud and heated debate with Jay and August, believing his friend was too weak to escape, Starsky had reluctantly agreed to cuff just one of Hutch's arms to the bedpost.

He had been wrong.

While the members of the rescue team gathered in another room to discuss the plans for the next day, Hutch had figured out how to take the bed frame apart and free himself. Under different circumstances, Starsky would have applauded his partner's ingenuity.

Apparently, Hutch was also strong enough to squeeze himself out of the small window, the only window, in the room and out into the night air. Probably half way back to the witch who had taken control of his mind and heart, Starsky thought angrily.

Starsky had made the mistake of underestimating the extent of Hutch's altered state of mind. Jay had pulled the overwrought detective aside and told him to never beat up on himself for being an advocate for his friend. They'd find Hutch.

Throwing on their jackets, the four liberators, headed out into the surrounding woods to find him.

Starsky figured his friend, who didn't have a coat on, was too weak to make it far on foot. They needed to find him without delay. This kind of cold could easily put a body at risk to hypothermia. Hutch was in bad enough shape as it was without adding another diagnosis-- hypothermia --to his list of medical problems.

So August, Starsky, and Huggy went off on foot-- urgently searching through the misty bog for him. Jay slowly drove along the rugged backroad trail, waiting to whisk Hutch

back to the warm indoors as soon as he was found.

-ooooo-

A panicked Sonora paced angrily back and forth in front of M, periodically swatting ineffectual punches to his bulging biceps, yelling at him, "How could you let this happen! _How?"_

A group of men looking like smaller clones of M encircled the odd couple of their boss, the Monster, and the frantic mistress of the house. Sonora crying hysterically charged. "You _find_ him! I want him back home _to-o-night!" _

She made a guttural sound while she flung a fist at the bodyguard. M carefully stopped her attack by gingerly catching her tiny hand in his. Completed undistracted by her, he barked out instructions to the huddle of Latrielle security as Sonora collapsed onto his chest sobbing loud undecipherable curses into the wet spot she was making on his shirt.

"_What are you guys waiting for? Get out there!" _he barked out_. "Find that cop!" _He added, rolling his eyes downward to the clinging woman of the house stuccoed to his chest_. "Right away!" _

On cue, the mobster princess wailed.

Dr. Archelaus, entering the room, pushed through the exiting army M had just dismissed. "I only now heard," he said, exchanging shocked glances with the giant.

The doctor never expected the uncustomary sight of Sonora seeking refuge in the giant's arms. He had never even seen them share a handshake. M's expression begged for intervention and the doctor moved to unhinge the tiny woman from the behemoth.

"Darling. You _must _calm down." He pulled at her and she vaulted into his arms sobbing loudly. Shaking his head in disgust, the doctor scolded her, "Sonora, stop this right now!"

He tipped her head back to see the puffy read orbs that inhabited the place her beautiful eyes used to be. The nearly hysterically woman muffled her sobs, hyperventilating with choking breaths. "H-he's g-g- g-one…gone," she sputtered. Dr. Archelaus drew her back into his arms and smoothed down the normally tamed abundant curls as he attempted to soothe her. "Yes. Yes. I know, baby," he told her.

Sonora returned to her mournful wailing and M abruptly made way for the door, huffing, "I'm out!"

The doctor continued to try to console her. "Darling, you know this might be the perfect time to put this whole thing to rest. Let's call for the plane. You and I will go to…ahh…Malaysia. Hmm? You love it there. A great shopping extravaganza. We'll…"

"No-o!" she shouted. Sonora pushed him away. Dabbing both wrists to her wet cheeks, a strange calmness took over her. "_I'm_ going to get _my_ husband," she said with an icy deliberateness.

The diminutive woman stormed out of the room.

"Sonora!" the doctor called after her. He didn't try to stop her. Dr. Archelaus had never seen her in such a state.

-ooooo-

Hutch didn't know where he was.

He had escaped his kidnappers. Now the goal was to find a phone. Sonora was probably worried sick. He would call and she would come for him.

The semi-frozen ground crunched underneath him and the wetness of it had already seeped into the shoes that served as little protection from the cold. Shivering, as he looked around the sodden wilderness, he steadied himself on a petrified tree limb.

Why had Detective Starsky tried to detain him? Hutch was confused about this person who wouldn't go away. Once again the hammering in his head was making it hard to think.

The freezing man remembered the connection he felt with the ex-partner who had earlier in the day offered a gentle hand to massage peace into his misery. There was something about Detective Starsky's face and voice that had just recently started to inhabit Hutch's conscious mind.

He had not told his wife or Dr. Archelaus about it though.

Sonora certainly didn't want her husband returning to a police officer's life—not when it had brought so much misfortune into the world they shared together. She had made it clear --police work was part of his past, not the present. Definitely not a part of their future together.

So when his ex-partner's face, his presence, started haunting him, Hutch had kept that little piece of information to himself. He would do anything to not upset his wife. Hadn't he put her through enough already?

Hutch even thought about asking Frank to make a few discreet calls to determine why his ex-partner had decided to show up. Why now? Hutch desperately wanted to make sure David Starsky couldn't hurt Sonora. M had shown himself to be a good friend—but the man worked for his wife and Hutch didn't want to put the bodyguard in the compromising position of doing something behind Sonora's back.

And, recently Hutch was getting a strange feeling about Dr. Archelaus. The doctor's ministrations over him felt insincere. The Latrielle's family practitioner—the man who was like a father to Sonora-- was getting tongue tied when Hutch asked questions about why he wasn't getting better—or about his treatment. What had doctors who had treated him after the accident said? _Maybe we should contact them for a second opinion about my condition?_

The little man would just shrug under the weight of the oversized caramel colored lab jacket he always wore and titter out some unconvincing words of assurance that he had it all under control…just a matter of time…and so on and so on. But Hutch wasn't convinced. Once when he had asked the doctor about all the pills he was taking, the man practically made a run for the nearest exit. All of it was making Hutch wary of the man's intentions. Certainly not a person he could confide in.

So he told no one about Starsky's voice being in his head. Or the peculiar way he felt whenever the detective got near him. Hutch didn't want to even think about why there was a feeling of intimacy underneath it all. How could he tell anyone about that when he didn't understand it himself?

Right now, he just wanted to get home…back into the warmth of the king-sized bed he shared with the woman he loved more than anything, more than any one in the world.

The temperature was dropping.

_So cold. Keep moving. Gotta keep moving. So cold._

_-_ooooo-

The full moon overhead provided an eerie illumination to assist them. The swampy landscape was a sticky muddy goo that sucked at their shoes, forcing thigh muscles to ache as the searchers determinedly trudged through it.

One of them bordered on frantic.

Starsky's heart was starting to do that thumping thing it did when he got scared.

What if they didn't find him? What if Sonora had been waiting- hidden in the midst and had already driven off with Hutch – only hours away from a helicopter ride to some other Latrielle estate out of Canada. To some other country--out of reach from him.

The dampness collecting on his clothes flaunted just how cold it really was. Conscious recognition of the bitter cold was making the dull thudding in his chest more intense. He looked at his watch.

It had been over four hours since Hutch had gone missing.

_Damn it, Hutch. Where **are **you, partner?_

Starsky gave into to a frustrated growl as near panic started to take over the feeling of exhaustion that was dragging his heart and soul through the muck and mire of the wasteland that surrounded him.

"Over here! Over here! _He's here!"_ Huggy yelled.

The call pumped life and power back into the dark-haired cop. He scrambled up over an embankment. "I'm comin', buddy," he declared out loud.

Reaching the top of the small hill he had just climbed, Starsky stopped and took a moment to figure out the direction of Huggy's voice.

"Here! Over here. Starsky, I got 'm!"

Starsky quickly stumbled toward the place Huggy's calls were coming from. He made an aggressive effort to push his aching body forward --galloping up the rugged path toward the shadow of figures moving in the darkness. Starsky could see Huggy taking off his jacket to cover the body on the cold ground.

Hutch had been out there passed out--vulnerable to the night's creatures and brutal cold for hours.

Starsky went to one knee, whipping off his beat up brown leather jacket to lay it over his downed friend. Huggy had already started rubbing some warmth into one of the limp arms and Starsky immediately starting rubbing in warmth, too, while he lowered his head to whisper to Hutch, "Whatcha' go do this for, huh?"

"I'll get Jay." August's voice sounded scared and Starsky didn't like what it was doing to the fear banging inside his chest.

He thought Hutch looked blue. Starsky didn't know if it was the incandescence hue of the full moon filtering through the mist of the swamp, or if it was the blue color possessed skin that had caused the frightened sound in August 's voice. But the peaceful look on Hutch's face wasn't helping at all.

"Let's get him inside," Jay ordered, reaching for Hutch's feet. Starsky and Huggy immediately followed his lead by slipping firm grips under Hutch's arms, carrying him to the jeep parked nearby.

Starsky once again found the stranger that Hutch had become, holding onto him as he shivered violently despite the blankets and coats they had wrapped around him.

It was oddly familiar and, when Hutch looked up into Starsky's face and rambled something about helping him, and giving him some medicine, Starsky's stomach flipped flopped in shock.

"Starsk, please…give me some medicine," he mumbled the words again.

"What's he sayin'?" Jay demanded.

A stunned Starsky reflected, "It's…ahh…He doesn't know what he's saying. It's… somethin' that happened…coupla years ago."

"It's a memory though, right? That's a good sign," Jay yelled to him, manhandling the steering wheel and causing all of them to jump in their seats inside the compact vehicle.

"Yeah?" Starsky answered as he looked down at Hutch. The worried cop didn't see anything good about what was happening.

Hutch had tried to escape from them, nearly killing himself in the process. Those weren't the actions of a person who wanted their help.

-ooooo-

Hutch's eyes were on him and Starsky couldn't break the connection as they silently studied him. It was like Hutch was trying to bring something to the surface and Starsky was afraid the wrong action on his part might truly work against Hutch's ability to bring him into remembrance.

The stare that kept him bound wasn't fearful, just tentative.

Starsky couldn't help but give him a warm smile. Wanting his missing for too long friend to know he was safe, he reached out a hand to smooth back the hair from Hutch's forehead and said, "You know me, right?"

Hutch shook his head slightly. "Starsky," he said with affirmation. But the exploration by his gaze continued.

"You don't gotta be afraid of me, you know that?"

"OK…no, I know," Hutch replied with a little bit of confidence.

"We've been best friends for a long time. I'm here to help ya." Starsky swallowed hard. "There's been a lot of things that…have happened … that's gotta be fixed."

Hutch gave him a bewildered expression.

Starsky, adding more warmth to it, smiled at his friend again. "You better get some sleep, pal. I'm not about to let anything else happen to you. That's all you have to know. _OK?"_ Pausing to get the words just right, he continued, "You…used to trust me. I know that's hard

for you to do right now… but, I…I promised ya-- I'd find you. You remember that?"

_I'll find you, Hutch. I promise, hear me, I'll find you._

The distant memory resurfaced and Hutch had to honestly answer, "Yes."

"Buddy, we've been through a lot, you and me. We're gonna get through this, too. You get some sleep. We got a few difficult days ahead. Just remember…" smoothing the hair once more, he added, "… I love ya. OK," Starsky assured him as he fought back his emotions.

For some reason he did believe that. Hutch closed his eyes and slept.

-ooooo-

"You've been on the inside," August said teasingly, letting Jay know she had figured out something about him. She had made that call on him on day one and came up with practically nothing at all. Somebody was keeping his identity hidden. Even with all her connections, she had not been able to crack the seal on who Jay Anderson really was.

If that was his real name.

Jay was a Jack of all trades and a master of them all. That was probably all she would ever know about him.

His identity was well protected. The man had to have worked inside one of the clandestine government intelligence agencies to be so invisible.

The ex- master spy who was their leader was obviously someone who knew and had secrets. Men with power would no more have allowed Mr. Jay Anderson to roam the earth aimlessly than turn their backs on him. But, apparently, Jay was very good at what he did—if he had walked away from a life of keeping government secrets—doing their dirty work -- and was still alive.

The subject of her inquisition gave a confirming grumble, then added, "Yeah. I've been on the inside. Hell, I _was _the inside. That's what you want to know, isn't it? Sure, there was a time I had direct access to a long list of heads of state, military, industry, banking…"

August, cutting him off, said, "OK. I get the picture. You were a bad dude- still are apparently."

Jay shrugged as he took in a deep drag of cigarette. "Unhealthy habits die hard," the mysterious figure said, smartly commenting on both his past and his bad habit.

He smiled sadly back at her, letting the joker in him rest as he leaned against the porch wall. It was a signal to her he was open for more questions.

"So, what was it--couldn't tell the good guys from the bad anymore- that, what sent you running?" August asked.

"No." He chewed at his bottom lip as he got reflective. "More like…when the good guys stopped trying to hide the fact _they_ were actually the bad guys…things got pretty ugly. A lot can be said for pretense. They forgot that. Turned my stomach and…"

The porch door squeaked as Starsky came outside, interrupting the conversation.

"Hey, how's he doing?" August asked.

"I don't know. Seems to recognize me-- but I don't think he's sure."

"He knows you," Jay confirmed. "Your partner just has to give himself permission that's OK. Sonora's tried to convince him otherwise… but you can see it, man. He knows ya."

The detective didn't realize his sigh of relief was heard by his two new friends until August gave his arm a squeeze and a bright smile of understanding. Feeling good for the first time in a long while, he grinned back at her.

-ooooo-

"Look, he's been brainwashed," Jay reminded Starsky. "Your buddy's not stupid. It's a real smart move on his part. Stringing us along like he's on board. I've seen it before--first time we get around some other folks, he's gonna spill his guts. Who knows what will hit the fan."

"_You _said it was dangerous to push him too quickly- it might cause a meltdown. That's what _you_ said," Starsky pointed out.

"I know what I said. I thought we would have been able to get underground by now. This place is secluded but it ain't no hideaway. Look, Hutch knows exactly what you and I know--Sonora and her assortment of goons are just around the corner. We gotta dig in where we are and get some doubt in him about the dear, sweet Mrs. Hutchinson. Getting some of the truth in him is our only chance at being prepared for when she does show up. He's holding out for _her_- that's why the guy won't eat. It's the only power he's got against us right now. Probably thinks it will force us to let him go."

Starsky slumped against the wall. He peered through the halfway opened door, studying Hutch, who paced back and forth in the room like a caged wildcat.

Jay spun around quickly. Blocking Starsky's view of his friend, he said, "_Wait a minute_. You said Hutch remembered something, _right?_ In the car. Right? We'll just take that and throw it back at him… but not just yet. Let's just give him a picture of who that witch is he's married to. You with me on this or what?"

Reluctantly, Starsky agreed. "All right. Yeah, I'm with you." Starsky looked back over at Hutch who was glaring them both down.

"He's gonna hate me," Starsky said sullenly.

Jay patted him sympathetically on the arm and Starsky followed him back into the room.

-ooooo-

"So where did you meet her?"

"I _don't_ have to answer any of your questions," Hutch said, tiredly letting his head dip.

"Is it too difficult? Maybe you're not sure," Jay taunted.

"I know where I met her!" Hutch retaliated.

"Why don't you tell me?"

No answer.

"Ok, _Ken--_do you remember the first time you saw Ms. Latrielle? Tell me."

Hutch shook his head as if he was starting to get upset. Then he took a deep breath and spoke carefully as he reviewed his life with Sonora. "I told you all of this before. We _met _in New Orleans. We've been married for _three years_… she's- she's…ever since I had the…the accident…she's given up every…everything for me. You don't know anything about it! What she's done, been through…"

"Oh, yeah. She's the perfect wife," Jay said mockingly. Taking a position next to an overhead projector, he flicked a picture onto a blank wall while he motioned to Starsky to turn off the light.

As the room darkened, a clear picture of Sonora sitting at a table full of men from all walks of life covered the empty space.

"Yes, your wife…_Sonora_," Jay went on. "Ken, do you know who this man is?" he asked, pointing to one of the men at the table. 

"I just…I just want to go home," a small voice answered as Hutch searched Starsky's face. "Can I just go home? What am I doing here?"

"Hutch…" Starsky attempted to explain.

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!"

Jay placed the tip of his pointer on the picture on the wall. "Do you know who this man is?"

Hutch turned his head away and Jay raised his voice louder, "I said _do you know who this man is?"_

Hutch looked back at Jay. "I don't know!" he answered with weak annoyance.

"Your wife knows him fairly well. Don't you want to know why she knows him? Why she's seated at a table full of old guys, smoking cigars…wearing expensive Italian suits. Are you interested?"

Hutch, gathering his arms close to his chest, started rocking uncomfortably in his seat, trying to stare blankly ahead.

"What if I told you she sits on the board of the _International Crime Network_," Jay said, again pointing to the picture on the wall. "And each person at this table represents part of a chain. Drugs, prostitution, illegal betting, money laundering…murder. You name it. This picture is from a recent meeting in Buenos Aires. So, I ask you--_what_ wifely duties do you think _your wife_ was performing at this meeting? She doesn't look like she's serving tea." Jay clicked through a series of pictures of Sonora talking to different men, shaking hands, and involved in purposeful conversations.

Hutch's eyes drifted away from the pictures on the wall as he explained to Jay, "She…s-she does a lot of charity work…s-she travels a lot. Those pictures don't mean anything." Reiterating, " I want to go home."

Jay tossed some files on the table. "Charity work. Hah! You gotta be kidding." He flipped open a folder and took out a photo of another man with Sonora. "Let's see-- this guy's got a sheet dating back over 30 years. Murder, kidnapping, drug trafficking…hmm, nothing about charity work." Jay threw down a black and white picture. "How bout this upstanding citizen? He's the one sitting right next to your wife… name's Mickey Two's--that's cuz he likes the two bullets in the back of the head system."

"Why are doing this! Can't you just leave us alone…we're happy."

Jay got in Hutch's face. "Because it's _all a lie_. You only know what _she_ wants you to know. She got inside your head. Stripped it clean--tried to anyway."

Spinning Hutch's chair around to face Starsky, Jay said, "See that guy over there? That's the best friend you have in the whole world and you treat him like a stranger. Haven't you wondered about why he's here? Last night-- you remembered something about him. Didn't you? David, here, had to reveal something to me that under normal circumstances he would have taken as a secret to his grave. Had to tell me something that happened to you no one else should ever know-- so I could find a way to get through all the junk _your wife_ put in there." Jay tapped a finger to Hutch's head.

Jerking away from him, Hutch yelled back, "I want to go HOME!"

"You remember Jeannie?" Jay said quietly.

Hutch gave him a strained look of confusion diluted with vague recognition. "Jeannie?" he repeated.

"Yeah. You remember. They took you outta your home. Your partner almost went nuts trying to find you. You were strung out and they were gonna kill you. But you got away." Jay crouched down low as he continued talking. "How bad you needed a fix…and your friend over there was with you day and night. Helping you kick it. He was there for you. That ain't the kind of thing a person forgets. You _begged_ him for help…for drugs."

Hutch raised a guilty stare to the man who had been his best friend.

Starsky looked away. It hurt too much.

"You remember Ben…" Jay said.

"Forest," cutting Jay off, Hutch finished the name.

"Yesss. Ben Forest."

"I want to go…home…" Hutch now sounded less certain of the demand.

"Back to Bay City?" Jay asked.

"I'm tired. Tired," Hutch told them.

"Jay, let's take a break, huh?" Starsky suggested, his eyes glued on Hutch's dipping head.

"Sure, why not? Let's take a break," Jay agreed, clicking off the projector and silencing its quiet hum.

-ooooo-

"Hey, I brought you a sandwich." Starsky offered the plate to his friend.

"Not hungry."

"Figured that. Well, I'll just leave it here in case you change your mind," Starsky said in a genial voice.

Grabbing at Starsky's jacket, a desperate Hutch petitioned, "Why don't you help me? Let me go. You seem like a good guy. You're not buyin' all this, I can tell."

"See, there it is," Starsky said humbly. "The Hutch I used to know always knew what I was thinkin'- we had this connection. It's funny, I guess underneath it all – we still have it. And, I'm for sure, the man I _used_ to know wouldn't want me to leave him stranded in some…nightmare. So…no, buddy-- I wish there was a better way to help remind you of who you are, but I don't got the answers. Jay's here to help ya-- may not seem like it just now. So, unless I see you getting hurt…"

"Getting hurt? And you don't think ripping my life out from under me doesn't hurt! Telling me lies about my wife… my life…doesn't hurt!" Hutch contested.

Starsky backed his way out of the room. The whole situation made him feel weak, and he couldn't let his sympathy for his best friend mess up what Jay had started. Not after what happened the last time, when Hutch had almost frozen to death in some failed escape.

"Wait! Listen. Help me. My wife is rich. She'll pay you. Whatever you want," Hutch bargained.

Starsky just shook his head. Leaving, he closed the door behind him.

(tbc)


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

**Resurrection**

_Starsky, get down_!

_The solid weight of the gun heavy in his hand didn't quench the fear that was overtaking him. Starsky was in the line of fire. Pinned down behind the commercial van by two gunmen who kept firing at the trapped cop._

_A third shooter's rapid gunfire pinning him down was making it impossible for him to move to help his partner._

"_Starsk!" was the frantic call that went out. The loud booming of the shots was all he could hear. Then there was silence and blood. The puddle of bright red blood pooling under the white van filled him with terror. He couldn't move. Starsky was down… had been hit by the hail of bullets. Starsky hit. No!_

"Starsk!" Hutch sat up abruptly from the dream that drenched him in sweat. "Starsk!"

"Hey, hey…right here," said the voice in the dark with arms that were trying to restrain him.

He was terrified and wasn't sure why the feeling was so intense. Hutch couldn't get calm and he tried to get out of the bed.

"No, No. HUTCH! No! Just a dream, buddy," the voice instructed, as the hands pushed him back to lie down.

The light was flicked on and Hutch found David Starsky camped out in a chair next to the bed.

Laying back on the pillow brought sleep back at once. But chaotic thoughts still filtered through the haze in his troubled mind.

There was a good possibility he was losing his grip on reality. His captors said his life was a hoax.

… _**it's all a lie**. You only know what **she** wants you to know. She got inside your head. Stripped it clean. Tried to, anyway._

He shouldn't be confused about the truth. Sonora was the woman he had given his heart to. Had married… planned to spend the rest of his life with. Till death do us part was the vow.

Sonora had told him Detective Sergeant David Starsky was a dangerous person whose motives had to be questioned. Mrs. Kenneth Hutchinson had warned her husband repeatedly.

_He's jealous of you. Your ex-partner is nothing but trouble. Don't let him fool you—he only means to cause us harm._

Nevertheless, Hutch was drawn to the man who had policed the streets of Bay City at his side. There was history between them and, even though he couldn't remember the details of it, he could feel it inside him trying to come out. Starsky said there was a connection between them.

Was that what the dream was about?

Too tired to continue the internal battle, Hutch gave in to the much-needed sleep.

-oo-

Starsky watched his eyes close.

Every night since they had grabbed Hutch, his very worried partner had slipped quietly into the bedroom while Hutch was deep in sleep. His place until sunrise was within a hand's reach of the distressed sleeper. Those hours before the sun came up were spent looking for the man Starsky loved and trusted. The evaluation was intense and non-stop.

The dark haired man noted how his partner's weight loss had thinned out the face--sharpening the handsome features. The professional cut of his hair, longer than his friend had ever worn it, and the manicured nails all painted a picture of someone living the good life.

Only his partner hadn't been living the good life.

Maybe Sonora thought she had a living "Ken" doll to play dress up with. She had been toying with Hutch's life and it had cost his friend way too much.

It had meant a lot to be there when Hutch had cried out for him during the night. And it meant even more to have been there to calm him. To be there when his friend needed him.

The sun was rising and Starsky quietly left before his partner awoke.

-ooooo-

"Ken, yesterday we were looking at some rap sheets. 'Member?" Jay's voice didn't sound the least bit tired as he started another day of deprogramming Detective Kenneth Hutchinson.

A raccoon-eyed Starsky, sullenly ran a hand through his dark ricocheting curls . He wasn't looking forward to another session of Hutch being under Jay's quick-fire interrogation.

The knock at the door was Huggy bringing in the orange juice Hutch had asked for. "Here you go, my man, one finely fresh squeezed nectar a la orange!" he said flamboyantly as he placed the oversized glass of juice down on the table in front of his friend.

Hutch looked uncertain as he gave both the barkeeper and the glass once over glances.

"It's cool, my brother," Huggy promised with a wink.

Hutch gave him a weak nod. "Thank you."

"Anytime," Huggy said sincerely. Trying to read Jay's and Starsky's faces, Huggy waved a tentative set of bony digits at them. But all eyes were on Ken Hutchinson.

Hutch had tightly laced his fingers around the glass. A lashes-flittering stare seemed to weigh down his head as he tried to bring the glass to his mouth. Long bangs, whitened by the light overhead, fell forward over his face. It was obvious Hutch had slipped out of reality. Zoned out.

The odd behavior got Starsky's full attention and he nudged Jay's arm. They both watched as Hutch lingered over the drink. Almost tipping over in his chair.

"Ken?" Jay said in a stern voice as he attempted to break the spell. "Hey! I'm talking here!" he said loudly.

Jay and Starsky exchanged looks over the trance-like state the brainwashed man was in.

Finally, Jay walked across the room. Fitting one hand over Hutch's, Jay used the other to try and work the glass out of the tight grip. Whispering, with enough volume for Starsky to hear, the deprogrammer said, "Probably some kind of hypnotic trigger. These wackos like to program in a word…object…an odor-- anything that puts their subjects into a suggestible state--back under real quick. It allows them quick access to control behavior without having to go back to square one. Sometimes, the victim's psyche creates the triggers themselves. The catalyst for a shift in consciousness could be anything…show up anywhere. Right now, could be the glass, the juice… the color--who knows."

"So he's hypnotized right now?" Starsky asked nervously.

"He's in a hypnotic state. Self induced or programmed," Jay said. "We're about to change that." He pulled more firmly at the glass in Hutch's grip.

Hutch opened his eyes, aggressively challenging as he tried to keep the glass in his possession. Not backing down, Jay put on his best 'wanta fight' face and the exhausted cop reluctantly relinquished it to him.

"I think he's finished with this," Jay announced, handing the juice over to Huggy and gently signaling for him to take it out. The bar owner left the room, suspiciously eyeballing the object he held cautiously away from his body.

Hutch hissed harsh breaths out of his mouth as his gaze followed Huggy long after he left the room.

Starsky's gaze was on Hutch.

Jay tapped the table loudly to get back the flustered man's attention.

"Why don't we take a look at your dear, sweet wife's rap sheet, huh?"

Taking a seat at the table across from Hutch, the inquisitor put a folder out in front of them.

"She started out pretty young—getting busted for shoplifting at age sixteen—she graduated to the big stuff by eighteen when she went into the family business—she took over the Latrielles' illegal tobacco and liquor operations. By age twenty-one…well..." Moving a picture of a brutalized dead body in Hutch's direction, he stated, "This is one of her first ordered hits. Just one in a long line of the many dead bodies she's left littered across many shores. She's an equal opportunity murderess, you might say."

Hutch could barely hold his head up. "You got it all…got it all wrong," he said defiantly. "You don't know nuthin'."

"Here's a picture of her father. I'm sure there's a portrait of him in that big beautiful estate of hers. Zavier, Sonora's father, is famous for the brutal takeover of most of the drug trade in North America. Made quite a name for himself along with a few billion dollars. _That_ grand accomplishment put _Mr. Zak_ at the head of the ICN table. You remember that from yesterday-- _the International Crime Network_," Jay said with flair, winking mischievously at Detective Hutchinson.

"Well, Zak loved his little girl Sonora so much – he spoiled her rotten. Sure, she looks great on the outside--but, inside, where her heart should be, is an "out of order" sign. She's cruel, ruthless, sadistic, malicious… should I go on?" Jay asked with a taunt.

Starsky put up a hand of warning for Jay to slow down the pace. It was a very difficult process for all involved and Jay took no offense at the order. He had learned to respect David Starsky very much and to respect the friendship between Starsky and Hutch. If David thought he was coming on too strong, he probably was.

"OK." Returning to the work at hand, Jay said to Hutch, "Ken, what about this fella? You're real familiar with him, right? This is a picture of your dear family friend, Dr. Archelaus. You know him pretty well- dontcha? He's the one that keeps sticking you with those needles and slipping those little pills into your hands. Probably slipping a little sumpthin' in your food, too. He's world-renowned. Let's take a looky at his FBI file. OK, don't ask how I got that one," Jay said, giving a big smile in Starsky's direction.

"Dr. Archelaus?" Hutch repeated sourly.

"Yeah, little ol' Dr. Archelaus. The doctor plays all sides. Makes up some very lovely chemical concoctions for the highest bidder – he doesn't care about what happens to the folks who are unfortunate enough to end up on the receiving end of his untested, experimental, mind bending drugs," pausing for emphasis, "…like you."

Hutch almost flinched from the allegation.

"Few survivors report excruciating headaches, blindness, nerve damage, lot of folks end up with uncontrollable convulsions, stroke…loss of memory--you name it. Sound familiar?"

Jay could see that Hutch was listening now, _really_ listening and considering the information put before him. It was a good sign and the deprogrammer picked up the file, urgently flipping through the pages.

"OK. This is it. Here's my favorite line from the doc's FBI profile…'_considered a master in mind control and brainwashing… his work far exceeds any research done by our own scientists…should be considered extremely dangerous_.'" Jay chuckled deliberately. "He'd be on a Most Wanted somewhere if he wasn't protected by so many different governments. Governments who fully appreciate _all_ the little guy has to offer. Who use his methods to obtain information from some poor unlucky slob they've detained. Should I read on?"

Hutch's brow furrowed as he brooded over his debriefing. "I-I asked him…bout the…bout the pills…he wouldn't tell me…what was in them…" he muttered.

Nodding to him that this was his cue, Jay waved Starsky over. "He's ready. Tell 'im everything."

Starsky moved quickly to take a seat next to Hutch. The dark-haired cop leaned in, almost touching Hutch's forehead with his own as he told him the story. "We were on assignment. Remember, buddy? FBI had asked Dobey for some assistance getting close to her…they couldn't get inside…needed some new faces. That's where we came in. Agent Stillman laid the whole thing out for us, but something didn't seem to make sense, remember? When we got in place--found our way in-- everything was too damn easy. The night we met her…she asked if she knew you-- if you had met before…maybe New Orleans. Damn, we shoulda known she was playin' us. There was this big party at the hotel and she invited us back to her mansion for the after party. We thought it looked like a spooky castle. Guess we were the only poor slobs to get the wine goblets laced with something to knock us on our asses. Right?"

Hutch gently rocked in his seat and tears, shining in the corner of his eyes, reflected the hurt he was feeling as Starsky continued the tale.

"I'm sorry, buddy. We were set up, partner. She knew who we were from day one. Somebody sold us out. Remember she…she…hooked you up to…" Starsky halted. It was hard to say out loud what had happened to Hutch…what she had done to him and the cop found it difficult to continue.

"Go head, tell him," Jay said firmly to Starsky. "Tell him, now…or..."

"I know!" Starsky answered back angrily.

"Hutch, listen…she…hooked you up to some machine that…it sent electricity…you tried to protect me…but you wouldn't cry out…and she…cut you here." The faltering Starsky raised a hand to touch Hutch's chest where the scars were hidden by the white dress shirt that hung half in and half out of his black pants.

"No," Hutch said, shaking his head sharply. "No…No…it's…it's from…from the accident."

_We're family now. You and I. I'll take care of you. I'll take care of everything. You'll see"_

Hutch thought he heard a woman's mocking laugh.

He abruptly pushed himself up and away from the table. The chair he was sitting in made a loud clanking sound that reverberated through the room as it hit the ground.

Starsky, speaking sweetly to him, covered one of Hutch's hands with his. "You remember-- down in that dungeon…looked like a scene right outta a Frankenstein movie, _right?"_

"She…she was there?" Hutch was questioning and answering his own question in one.

"Sonora was there, buddy," Starsky confirmed gently.

Sonora was there, buddy… 

How could that be true?

Hutch rubbed at the scars. They weren't from the accident? That's what Sonora had told him. But he remembered being in the cold dark crypt and Starsky was there, and a woman and Frank. Frank was there?

The earthy smell of mold that had permeated the dungeon filled his nostrils. He could almost feel the sensation of the electric current slowly rising in intensity through his arm and he subconsciously began to shake it.

Starsky stood up, speaking to him. "Hey?"

Hutch felt the motion of being transported to the torture chamber. The tiny woman was standing in front of him.

"No," he spoke quietly to himself to dispel the image. There was a brillant flash of light inside his head. A gasp to greet the pain was all he could offer it.

The rumbling of the white noise he had been trying to keep at bay picked up speed.

… _**it's all a lie**. You only know-what **she** wants you to know. She got inside your head. Stripped it clean._

The intensity hit him hard and Hutch felt like the back of his head had split open, toppling him over toward the floor.

"Huuutch!" Starsky got up under him, struggling to tighten his grip on his best friend, as convulsions took control of Hutch's body.

"_Whatta we do?"_ Starsky called out into the air.

Hearing the commotion, August and Huggy both came running in to the room.

"What happen'd?" Huggy asked frantically to Jay who was rushing by him.

"Lay him down flat! Don't restrain him! I'll be right back!"

Starsky carefully released Hutch, laying him on the floor while cushioning a hand under the head of his shaking friend.

Jay returned in what seemed like seconds, tossing a black medical bag down to the floor, he pulled out a small bottle and a syringe.

"What's that?" Starsky barked at Jay who was down on one knee preparing the syringe he was about to inject into Hutch's arm.

"Look, it's just a mild anticonvulsant… muscle relaxant. It won't hurt him. I promise, it's OK. His body is under too much stress. Gotta lighten the load here."

"OK…you a medical doc, too?" Starsky eyed him cautiously.

Jay gave him a confident smile. "Notary, too."

Starsky couldn't find any humor in it as he looked down at what little of Hutch she had left behind. Up close, this person looked like the Ken Hutchinson Sonora had created...if it wasn't for the tight hold Hutch had on his shirt, Starsky would have even wondered if they were the same person.

There wasn't any of the strength, the warmth that naturally emanated…the fighter…just a lost soul…and the realization brought a burning sting to Starsky's eyes. But something in the way Hutch was reaching out and holding on to him was making hope rise in him… maybe there was still some trust there.

He slipped his arms under him and pulled his friend tighter to him softly telling him, "Please, buddy, this is the way back. _Please_ take it, huh?" The distressed body began to respond to the shot and slowly began to relax against him.

Jay concurred. "It's all up to him, now."

Huggy and August remained in the doorway watching the scene. Quiet prayers for their two friends halted any movement from them. They all waited.

When the convulsions were stilled, Starsky turned to them. "Help me get him to bed."

Jay and Huggy helped Starsky carry Hutch to bed as August pulled back the covers for them. Starsky carefully held him up, as Huggy arranged the pillows underneath their fallen friend. Letting Hutch lean back into the bed, Starsky pulled the sheets and blankets up over his chest.

Huggy and Jay looked at Starsky, silently announcing their exits.

"She was gonna kill us?" Hutch asked timidly, looking into Starsky's face.

Starsky nodded sadly. He thought he would be elated when Hutch began to accept the things they had been trying to tell him. But Starsky only felt pain as he watched the confusion working over Hutch, as he tried to figure out what was truth and what wasn't. Starsky didn't think he could watch his friend go through the tumult of his body's violent reaction to this deprogramming. There was no telling what damage these convulsions where doing to Hutch's body.

"Wha--What's wrong, Starsk?" Hutch whispered innocently to his partner's bowed head.

Starsky didn't have another smile in him so he just nodded back that all was well.

"Don't worry…" picking up on the concern in Starsky's face, Hutch told him, "…she won't hurt me." Hutch said to him ruefully, "S-she loves me, Starsk. She… loves me…"

_He's still trying to hold onto a balloon we're letting all the air out of. _

"Hush now. You better get some sleep, pal," Starsky said as he protectively tucked in the blanket around him. "When you wake up – you _are_ gonna eat somethin'. Hear?"

"S-should call her…" Hutch said weakly.

"Uh-uh. Sleep," Starsky ordered.

Hutch's eyelids fluttered and then closed in obedience.

Moving a chair over to the bed, Starsky sat down. He leaned back to get a full view of the sleeping and very confused man who had been his partner and friend.

Starsky sat hunched over. Watching him sleep. It was a miracle they had been able to get Hutch away from Sonora. She was a smart lady. Had enough money to buy anything…anybody.

Sooner or later she'd find them.

How long did they have before her and her army showed up, Starsky wondered?

He had told Hutch everything. Jay had spent three days dismantling and yet Sonora Latrielle's husband wanted to call her. This was insanity, and him and Hutch were caught right dab in the middle of it.

Was Hutch going to be able break away from her? He had already made one attempt to get back to her.

August walked up behind him. Sighing sympathetically, she began massaging the tension out of Starsky's shoulders.

"When is this nightmare gonna end?" Starsky asked, chafed and exasperated.

"Soon, David. We're so close. Now's not the time to get discouraged."

"You heard him…he thinks she loves him. Can you believe it? This whole thing just gets crazier and crazier."

"He's only repeating what she's told him."

"I don't know. August, what if he believes it, huh?" The sound of defeat in Starsky's voice was heavy.

August took a seat on the edge of the bed facing Starsky. "Well, there is that whole theory, ya know. Stockholm Syndrome."

"_Stockholm Syndrome?" _

"Uh-hmm. What happens is sometimes people who've been held hostage-- who've spent an extended amount of time with their captor-- _abuser_…" She stopped at her use of the harsh word when she saw the effect it had on the dark-haired man.

"Hmmm." Starsky reflected solemnly repeating the word, "Abuser."

"I'm sorry," she apologized.

"No…you're right," he said. "No matter how you look at it, Hutch was abused by that crazy witch."

She watched him clench a fist in frustration, digging nails into his palm. "Go ahead with what you were sayin' " he instructed her. 

"Well, prisoners…the victim…" She couldn't find a word that didn't sound horrific. Starsky just jutted a chin at her to continue. "OK," she told him. "They start experiencing a kind of abnormal attachment to the very person who's imprisoning them."

"Attachment--_hell_. Hutch was brainwashed."

"Yes, he was. But just so you know, after we pull back all the layers, we could still have a problem. After all the deprogramming…seems like he gets it…I guess you shouldn't be surprised if there's some real attachment there--some connection underneath it all, that feels very real for him. You've seen them together. That's not acting. It doesn't make sense, but it happens. I'm just sayin' you can't expect him to be able to shut off his feelings just like that. You better know what you're dealing with. "

Starsky mumbled a curse.

No, he had no idea what they were dealing with.

-oo-

It was a long night.

August sat quietly in awe of the gentleness Starsky showed his partner. She had never experienced anything like it.

The emotion and love absorbed all the light in the room, pulling her into the middle of it as she watched Starsky, minute after minute, minister to his anxious friend.

Hutch would one moment recognize and reach for Starsky then uncertainty and bewilderment would whoosh through the distressed man and he'd plead with Starsky to let him go back to Sonora.

Starsky patiently talked to his friend. Touching his cheek, hair, taking hands in his --assuring him that everything would be all right. Hutch would look up at him, his eyes full of fear and love, confusion and misery, and trust. Listening--wanting to believe whatever promises his partner was blessing him with. She watched Starsky care for him like a mother attending to her sick child.

These were two men. How could they express so much emotion and …love between each other. She had never seen anything like it before and didn't expect that she would again.

It was intimate and raw, and August feeling like she should leave them alone, got up to go-- only to have Starsky reach for her hand. He asked her to stay.

She was being brought into the family. She teared up, immediately receiving the baptism of the pain and the closeness of what was happening before her.

Hutch, vulnerable and sweet, and scared was in Starsky's care. Drawing on Starsky's strength and devotion. And she was in the midst of them. Starsky, with just a look, was telling Hutch he was now in August's care, too, and, when she gazed into Hutch's eyes, she felt the need and acceptance from him that threatened to send her sobbing out of the room.

Instead, August slipped her hand into his and smiled down at him. "We're gonna take good care of you." She looked over to an exhausted Starsky who nodded gratefully.

"I-I can't," Hutch admitted to her.

"Can't what, Hutch?" she asked.

"C-Can't…can't think…" he blurted out. "Don't know…What's real?"

"We are." Agent Moon reached over to Starsky. "David and I are real. You can be sure of that and we're not going to let anyone hurt you. Now, you should sleep."

"I can't," he protested weakly.

She thought he very much looked like a little boy. "Yes, you can. We'll be right here. OK?" she vowed.

-ooooo-

It was cold. A spectral light from the moon made their faces ghoulish as hot air from their breath circled around the ten men's faces. M listened to their hushed voices as they bent over into the trunks of cars. Weapons of all kinds were being filled with ammo and

inspected by the small force of Latrielle henchmen. Some of the faces were somber while others displayed wide grins and eyes wild with anticipation of the impending blood bath.

Monster squinted through binoculars at the cabin in the valley below them. He watched the shadows of figures moving behind the curtains.

"M, I didn't know you smoked?" One of the men asked him.

"Sometimes. Leaves a bad taste in your mouth," M answered.

_Leaves a bad taste. _

Just like this whole thing with Ken Hutchinson.

He had kidnapped a cop and now Sonora had ordered the slaughter of the four people who had been foolish enough to attempt to free him.

It was amazing how quickly Latrielle money and connections had led them to the hideout.

M closed his eyes as the premonition of the crimson color of blood on walls and curtains sent a bitter taste rushing into his gut. He could see the horror on Ken's face – the slaughtered bodies of his friends sprawled around him. M shook the vision roughly out of his head.

What if he had to kill him, too? Kill Ken?

The bitterness flew back up into his throat and the Monster was sure he would vomit.

Good people shouldn't have to die because of some B.S. like this.

Detective Ken Hutchinson was a decent guy. The people inside the brightly-lit cabin that sat in the lowland were probably decent also.

Monster had seen a lot of killing and he didn't want to see anymore.

Retreating to his black Mercedes, M opened the driver's side door and tossed his weapon inside it. "Let's get outta here," he ordered to the men around him.

Anyone seeing the look on M's face—the one he had practiced so he would never have to repeat himself–knew the command wasn't an invitation for debate.

There were a few grumbles of disappointment, though, as the petite army got back into the cars stationed on a bluff overlooking the secluded log house.

The night would not be filled with the sound of gunfire-- just the collected purr of engines as the assassins drove off.

-oo-

Sonora slapped him hard across the face. M barely blinked as she ranted at him. "_How_, can you disobey a direct order! I told you I wanted them _all_ dead! "

She fumed as she circled the giant standing before her in the dimly lighted library.

"It wasn't smart," Monster told her blandly, careful not to let any emotion in his voice kindle the fire that was roaring inside her.

"_Not smart!"_ She fumed. "Who are _you_ to decide what's smart now?"

There was quiet and then M said smoothly, "One thing your father taught me. Never let your temper make decisions for you. Don't do anything you can't distance yourself from later. Killing those people would have put us both out in the open. Are you so sure you wanna spend the rest of your life in jail? Not that all of us ain't headin' that way, anyhow."

Sonora crossed angry arms as she studied him. He was right and she knew it. "_No_. I don't want to spend the rest of my life in jail," she said with annoyance. "But, I want my husband back. So, now what?"

"Thinka somethin' else," M said plainly, leaving her standing alone in the library Zak Latrielle had practically built with his own two hands.

M had been insubordinate. Had told Zak's kid no.

If the Monster had allowed Sonora to have her way tonight, murdering four innocent people on her say so, it would have driven them both mad. Zak's only living child was already one messed up little princess.

Denying her tonight might just open up some road to redemption—for both of them.

Zak Latrielle had left Sonora under his guardianship. Under his protection. Maybe M was just now taking that commitment seriously.

-ooooo-

"Orange juice?" Hutch asked him.

Something in Hutch's glassy blue eyes finalized the "No" Starsky instinctively felt. When Huggy had included it on the food tray, Starsky had remembered what had happened the last time and asked Huggy to bring something else for Hutch to drink with his lunch.

"No. You're getting' cranberry, babe," Starsky offered as he pushed the glass toward Hutch.

Hutch shook his head. "I just want orange…"

"_No-o orange juice!"_ Starsky almost shouted. The words felt silly the moment they flew out of his mouth. But he had seen Hutch's oddly zoning out and he remembered what Jay had said about triggers. So his partner wasn't getting any damn orange juice!

Hutch gave him a wounded look.

"C'mon. Eat," Starsky ordered, picking up half of the sandwich and handing it to his friend. "It's tuna, buddy. Can't say you don't like it. You've eaten enough of it to get your picture on one of those amphibian species charts," he added playfully.

Hutch, apparently still pouting over not getting orange juice, turned his head.

"So help me, Hutch, don't make me have to sit on you and force feed you. I'll do it! Think I won't?" Starsky challenged.

Hutch blinked back his alarm and then slowly reached out shaky fingers to take the sandwich from him. He put it to his mouth and nibbled at one corner.

Starsky raised a threatening eyebrow and Hutch took a bite.

Several bites later, a tired Hutch seemed to be nodding.

His dark-haired friend tapped his arm. "Hey, keep going. I'm here for as long as it takes, partner."

Hutch sighed.

"Here," Starsky said as he handed him a fork. "Eat these." He pointed to some sautéed vegetables Huggy had prepared just the way Hutch had always been so fond of. "Don't look so sad, Hutch, it's just vegetables."

At the end of almost an hour's time, Starsky had coached Hutch into eating more than half of what was on the plate.

Starsky raised a hand to cover the grin on his face. It was another step in the right direction.

-ooooo-

Performance of a life time.

If only she could pat herself on the back. Sonora grinned as she pulled the sleek black leather glove over her slender fingers.

Mrs. Kenneth Hutchinson had used her doe-like chestnut browns to mesmerize the local Chief of Police. The mournful woman spun out a tale so heart wrenching it had brought tears to her own eyes.

Her husband, emotionally unstable due to years of dedicated police work.

His ex-partner, unwilling to accept that Ken was not able to return to the job they both loved, was equally unstable. Had an abnormal "infatuation" for her husband. Detective Sergeant Starsky had enlisted others to help him by concocting some bizarre story that questioned the validity of their sacred marriage. They were holding her sick husband against his will.

Sonora told the Police Chief how she only wanted to protect her husband's privacy and keep the whole tawdry thing out of the papers. She wasn't entirely sure of the _nature_ of the relationship between her husband and his partner but she loved him dearly and wanted him home.

Batting long lashes, she assured the chief the group from Bay City most likely had the best intentions – they just didn't understand how ill her husband was. She just wanted to get him back on his medication as soon as possible.

If he could assist her in anyway—if he could make it possible for her to speak to her husband, Sonora was sure she could bring a peaceful end to the whole matter.

_Is that your wife and children? _She mewed as the chief blushed. He picked up the small picture frame and pointed to each of the five little mop headed children. He went into a long narration of names, ages, and cute tales from a proud father. As she hung on his every word.

"Our families are all we have," she announced grandly when the man stopped talking.

The officer of the law nodded his agreement. "Well. Let's just see if we can get yours back together," he told her.

"That's all I want," Sonora said humbly.

Monster had told her to find another way and she had done just that.

(tbc)


	9. Chapter 9

For dramatic purposes both Chapters 9 & 10 will be shorter than the previously posted ones.

The Sacrifice

Peeking out of the window, Huggy called out, "Starsk! Company!"

Everyone in the small cabin could hear the cars driving over the gravel and the slamming of multiple car doors. The thundering sound of heavy boots making their way up to the front porch brought everyone inside the cabin, except Hutch, to their feet.

A fist banged against the door. Jay looked at Starsky, Huggy, and August as he went to answer the demand for entry.

"Everybody, keep your cool," he warned and waited for them all to nod in agreement. Giving Starsky a weak smile, he let out a calming breath and opened the front door.

"Officers," Jay greeted them politely.

The local chief of police waved a hand at them. Getting right to business, he said, "Look, I'm not exactly sure what all's going on -- but I got a lady here who says you guys have her husband in there. I know some of you in there are law. Out of jurisdiction, though. Unless you have some kind of special court order or somethin', I'm here to make sure she gets to talk to him and if he wants to leave with her – well…I'm hoping you guys ain't gonna give me any trouble." The three other broad shouldered cops with him parted way and let Sonora and Monster onto the porch.

Jay put a hand on Starsky's shoulder, pushing him out of the doorway. "Of course, we don't want any trouble, Chief."

Sonora, playing it up for the officers, who seemed to have bought her story, hook, line, and sinker, gave them a humble and pathetic stare as she walked by them.

She quickly made her way into the room and over to Hutch, who welcomed her with a weird smile.

"Ken, _darling_," she said. "Oh, I'm _so sorry_ I wasn't there to stop all this. Are you all right?" Ken glanced over to Starsky, but Sonora tipped his face upwards. Holding his head in her hands, she studied him with concern. Announcing to M, "He looks terrible," she turned back to Hutch. "I want Dr. Archelaus to take a look at you as soon as we get home." Taking his hand, she tugged at him and Hutch stood up slowly.

"Hey wait a minute!" Starsky protested. "He's not going with you."

"This is _my_ husband! You don't have any say in where he goes. This is between _me_ and _him_."

She walked over to the police chief. "I know this is strange. I explained to you that my husband and _this one_…" pointing angrily at Starsky,"…_used_ to be partners. He can't seem to accept that my husband has chosen _not_ to continue their--_friendship_. It's just a total misunderstanding, but I believe we can all work it out." She fluttered her long dark lashes at him. "_Brian_—I mean--_Chief McKinley--_ can you give us all a few minutes alone to settle things?"

"Do you think that's a good idea? Things look like they could get heated," the official responded with genuine concern.

"We'll be fine. Please? I don't want things to escalate." Whispering, as she pointed to the now flustered looking man, "And, I think your being here is unnerving my husband."

The Chief gave the blond-haired man with the dark circles embedded under his wildly bright stare a squinted examination. "Sure. Sure, ma'am. We'll be right outside." Chief Mckinley said, tipping his hat at her respectfully as he turned to leave.

The local law vacated the cabin porch, taking a new position next to their vehicles.

"Thank you _so_ much," Sonora called out to him as she closed the front door behind them.

The venom on her face was clear when she turned to face Starsky.

"I've had enough of this, _David._ I'm taking Ken with me and you will return back to Bay City or wherever. I don't care. You are _all_ very lucky that you are leaving here with your lives!"

Starsky blocked her as she reached to grab Hutch's arm.

"NO!" Starsky said firmly.

"Don't push me." She raised her eyebrows in M's direction to remind Starsky of the powerful adversary in the room. Sonora spoke to Hutch, as she continued staring down Starsky. "Ken, let's go."

_Hutch wanted to move. But he couldn't--didn't know which way to go. He needed to be with his wife. She loved him and he loved her. What did Starsky want from him? He couldn't hurt his friend either. He tried to understand what he needed to do. He had to do something. They were **al**l waiting for him to decide. The pounding inside his head was making it hard to concentrate. The light in the room was bright and distracting. He looked at the people around him. They began to blur in distortion and he couldn't read their faces. **What do I do?**_

_He could hear the desperation in the voices as they talked. _

"Hutch, buddy. Don't listen to her. We're all ready to get out of here, _right now_. Trust me, partner."

"_These people_ are lying to you," Sonora immediately added. "Darling, you know how much I love you. I don't know why _they_ are trying to come between us like this."

"Hutch, you know I would never lie to you!" Starsky pleaded.

Sonora was opening her arms to him. "We're happy together. Aren't you happy, Ken? They don't know anything about us."

Looking back and forth at them, Hutch groaned. He raised his hands up, covering his face, shaking his head in frustration.

Sonora made a move toward him. "Honey, please. We've built a whole life together. We have plans for the future…children. We were going to travel next year and then start our family. We both want that, remember?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" Hutch shouted. Seemingly panic-stricken he thudded a closed fist at the ferocious pain inside his head.

Starsky didn't like what he was seeing and quickly reached out to stop him. "I'm sorry, buddy. Hey, it's all right. Just take a breath, huh?"

"_My head_." Hutch moaned.

"Ken?" Sonora persisted.

"Shut up! Can't you see he's hurting?" Starsky yelled at her.

Ignoring him, the masquerading Mrs. Hutchinson, went on. "Albert is waiting for you to tell him where to start the vegetable garden you both talked about. Everyone is asking about you. All the kitchen staff is missing you making them lunch on Thursday afternoon… you know, like you used to."

_He remembered the laughing and fun he had cooking for them…all the nice people in the kitchen who had become his friends, bringing special meals to him in bed when he was too sick to go to the dining room. He remembered that._

"Help me," Hutch petitioned Starsky mournfully.

He looked like a man who was being torn to pieces as he lifted his head up to Starsky, reaching out his hands to him.

"I'm here," Starsky said, wrapping an arm around his friend.

Starsky's agony was obvious as he looked back to Sonora, begging her not to continue to torture Hutch like this. "_Pleas-se, let him go_."

There were tears in her eyes and, for a minute, Starsky thought maybe she was human—she would finally see how much damage she had done but instead the petite woman gave him a spiteful look as she shook her head no. "_He_ belongs with _me_."

Sonora pushed on, speaking the words with challenge into Starsky's face. _"Ken_, Rachel and Henry are expecting us to go to the symphony with them this spring. You promised them."

_Rachel? Hutch remembered her very well. Sonora's best friend had welcomed him with open arms. The talkative woman had told him how unhappy Sonora had been in the past, about how much his wife had blossomed in their marriage. Rachel had never seen her happier… That was real._

_But he also remembered running through the alleys and up the fire escapes--could feel the weight of the gun bouncing in the holster strapped to his shoulder. He could see Starsky's hand signal to move forward... _

The two lives were colliding together and exploding inside his head. The color drained from his face, a tremor taking over, he sat back down awkwardly in the nearby chair.

Jay nearing Starsky, whispered to him, "He can't take much more of this." Urgency was evident in the words.

"What's wrong with him?" Starsky asked worriedly.

"Some kind of distress, BP is probably sky high… we're talking stroke, mental breakdown. Something bad."

"I need you, Ken, _please,_" Sonora cooed in his direction.

Starsky turned on her. "STOP IT! _You're killin' him!_ _Can't you see that?"_

"I am _not_ leaving here without my husband!" she snapped back.

Starsky felt August's hand on his arm. She spun him around. "I'm with you," she said, pulling back her jacket to let the light fall on the gun she wore.

Starsky wondered if they could? Could they shoot their way out? The pressure was consuming and then he heard Hutch calling out to him.

"_Starsk… Starsk_?"

Feeling with all his soul Hutch's plea for mercy, Starsky knelt down next to his friend and knew what he had to do.

But could he? 

Weighing the decision, Starsky gave Sonora a killing stare.

Maybe _she_ thought she loved her Ken. But Starsky was sure he loved his friend. He couldn't take watching Hutch's desperate pain. His partner had asked him for help and Starsky couldn't deny him that help.

_If you love something…someone…let them free…let them go. _

"OK. OK. It's all right," Starsky said, leaning in and taking a strong hold of his shaky partner.

Hutch looked up to him, his face, wet with tears, told the story of the misery and pain he was in. He said, "Wan… go home." Repeating his ongoing litany.

The angst on his face and his words dug deep into Starsky's heart and, only then, did he find the strength to make the decision.

Make the only decision he could to save Hutch.

_If you love something, let it go..._

Starsky grasped a hand around Hutch's neck. Hutch was like a man waiting to hear his sentence.

The dark haired cop closed his eyes to steady himself. A moment passed as he settled the turmoil raging inside of him. When Starsky opened his eyes, they were flooded with tears but he gave Hutch the warmest smile and said to his best friend, "OK. OK."

August, Huggy, and Jay all knew that Starsky had reached the end. A loving sacrifice was coming. There was no way he could go on participating in the tug of war with Sonora--which was breaking Hutch up into little pieces. Competing for the prize of his presence in their lives by telling him conflicting stories of who he was and where he belonged.

"You use…" Starsky's voice was weak but he shut his eyes and started again. He put his mouth close to Hutch's ear to plant the words into Hutch with a final certainty.

He continued in a calming voice. "You used…" He swallowed hard before he could go on. "…used to be a cop…used to…be…my partner."

Hutch eyes were wide as he listened intently. It was clear Starsky was bringing an end to his pain.

"I-I used...to be…be… a cop." Hutch struggled to repeat the healing dosage his best friend was prescribing.

"Your…your…wife's name…" deliberately holding back his bitterness, "…is Sonora."

The collective silence of Jay, Huggy, and August was overpowering.

He would make the sacrifice—take the hit to save his partner and friend. Just as Hutch had done for him. Release him—free him from the pain he was in. Giving up everything to save him. They might never see each other again. He was the one who loved him enough to make the ultimate sacrifice--only there was no old testament judge to wisely rule in favor of the one who loved Hutch the most.

Hutch looking scared, _understood_ and, in thankful appreciation, repeated after Starsky, "Sonora…my wife…"

Starsky said, "You…you met her in New Orleans."

Hutch would accept the lie… needed to…

"Yeah?" Hutch said, wiping some of his tears away. "I had an accident," he added pitifully, playing his part.

Starsky shook his head in confirmation, closing his eyes tightly as tears raced down his face. "Yes. You had an accident," he verified sadly.

"Yeah," Hutch agreed quietly.

Everyone in the room, including the giant, looked away from the poignant exchange.

Starsky gave Hutch a gentle hug and, as he leaned back, the smile he was wearing fell from his face like a curtain closing. He made a quick movement to stand. Starsky gave Hutch a deliberate kiss on the top of his head and whispered to him, "You know where to find me…anytime, anywhere. You call…you need anything. Right?" He let a lingering hand rest a minute on Hutch's shoulder.

Starsky gave Sonora a look of surrender and turned to leave. Faltering, as if his he was unable hold himself up, the heartbroken man made his way outside.

Sonora, rushing to Hutch, smiled at the three remaining members of the losing team. Throwing her arms around him, she was gleeful. "Oh, sweetheart, "she purred as she planted kisses on his face she held in her hands. "It's _all_ over now. It's over. Let's go home," she told him. Motioning to M, she ordered, "Get his coat." The diminutive woman helped the broken-down officer to his feet. Still looking bewildered, Hutch looked at the would-be-rescuers as he put an arm around Sonora to steady himself.

The tiny viper delivered more calming words to him and he almost fell into her arms.

-ooooo-

"We'll get him, back," Jay said with confidence. "It happens all the time. Sometimes the first attempt of deprogramming isn't successful. We'll keep them in our radar and try again. That's all."

"_Damn right we're trying again!"_ Starsky responded angrily.

-ooooo-

August said, "You did the right thing."

"No, I didn't. I just couldn't hurt him anymore," Starsky's lifeless voice answered.

"Are you ready to get out of here?" she asked.

Nodding a tired yes, the devastated cop never raised his head.

Giving him the information she was supposed to, August added, "Jay's finishing up all the arrangements now. There'll be a car coming to take us to the plane first thing in the morning. You gonna be all right?"

"No." Starsky was finished talking.

It wasn't over. They had lost this battle but as long as Starsky had breath in his body…

Somehow he'd get through to Hutch _or_ he would die trying.

(tbc)


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10 

Smoke and Mirrors

Hutch heard her chattering happily as she ran the bath water.

Immobile, he stood looking into the large mirror in front of him.

Sonora peeked back into the bedroom. "Get those dirty clothes off, sweetie. I'm drawing you a bath. You'll feel so much better after a nice hot soak," she said glibly.

The words jarred a dazed Hutch, interrupting his intense study of the man in the mirror.

Attempting obedience, he fumbled to unbutton the shirt but, at the moment feeling like he was moving through quicksand, made the act almost impossible. Confusion had him in its cruel grip.

The reflected man's past, present, and future compacted like one of those junkyard cars. All he could hear was the drone of the machine that threatened to flatten the remains of what was once functional, once shiny and new. Who was he? What was he?

Like a lone drop of rain falling to earth, he meant nothing to himself or to all that surrounded him.

Surveying the room… there wasn't anything there that belonged to him, nothing that validated his existence… his being…his life…his dreams. What was he doing here? He looked in the mirror again… all he saw was a well-dressed corpse---the remains of the person he once was. His eyes were empty. His mind emptied, too. Memories of his life's experiences…the laughter, tears, failures, and accomplishments…scooped up and dumped out like the seeds of a cantaloupe.

Closing his eyes, he felt the ghost of the hand of his partner that had rested on him—bringing comfort-- and the joyless briny deep eyes that had released him back into Sonora's custody.

The voice cramped with emotion… telling him… _if you need anything…you know where to find me… if you need anything_…

Yeah, he needed something…someone.

Something real--something genuine was tickling inside his chest…the tingling around his heart seeking a resting place. In his heart a remnant remained.

He did need something.

…needed his best friend.

He couldn't understand all the reasons why he was standing in the strange regality of the opulent gold and violet decorated bedroom-- but his heart told him he didn't belong there.

She came up behind and wrapped her arms around him. Staring at the picture they made in the glass before them, Sonora slipped a hand inside his partially unbuttoned shirt guiding it to rest on the raised scars on Hutch's chest.

He felt a shock of cold rush through him and distorted weird pictures flashed behind his eyes forcing them shut.

"Tired," she mused.

Squeezing him tight, she slowly outlined the scars with her manicured fingers sending a chill up his spine.

"_No worries_," she said as she delivered a light kiss on this back, leaving him standing there as she returned to tending to his bath.

No worries? 

_No worries…_

_No worries, my love._

Hutch's world upturned. Vertigo hit hard--forcing him to blow out the poison-like air that was filling his lungs.

Pictures and words where coming at him at breakneck speed. He could almost feel the slash of the blade across his chest as he saw a staff flying in the air near him.

Closing his eyes once more, he tried to shake off the vision--only to feel the action of the sweep of the weapon near his face. He touched a hand to the scars underneath the open shirt. A dark shadow's graceful dance-like movement behind him made the unsteady cop take a disoriented step back.

Sonora peered back in to the bedroom. "OK?" she asked him.

He gave her a noncommittal stoic nod.

"You don't look well, honey. I'm just going to Dr. Archie and get you something for that headache. Bath's waiting. Why don't you get in and I'll be back with your medicine." 

Forcing a weak smile, he nodded again to her as she darted out of the room.

"_No worries, my love…"_

"_We're family now. You and I…I'll take care of you. I'll take care of everything_…_You'll see…"_

He spun around to the sound of her voice.

Hutch raised a hand to the scars.

"_In Japan it's called a bokken or jo…mine is made from an exotic African hardwood…unbreakable...unforgiving…" _

Words were tumbling from the sky, hitting him like oversized hail from above.

"_Haven't we met before…maybe New Orleans"…_

"_You should have kissed me." _

"_If you cry out --it's David's turn._

"_I always win. Remember that. I always get what I want." _

"_Would you like some sweet roll?"_

_"Know you? I shall create you."_

"_In Japan it's called a bokken or jo…"_

_If you cry out.._

"_We're family now. You and I…I'll take care of you. I'll take care of everything_…_You'll see…"_

"_We're family now. You and I…"_

"_We're family now. You and I…"_

"_**Who** do we trust?"_

"_Me and Thee."_

"_Me and Thee…"_

_**I'll find you, Hutch. I promise, hear me, I'll find you.**_

_**I promise…hear me…I'll find you.**_

He looked around the room, everything was unfamiliar and that frightened him. Hutch didn't want to stay there—he didn't belong there.

His eyes settled on to the black wool coat lying across the bed. Snatching it up, he let himself out into the gardens.

Then he was running. Running fast. Running for his life, running to his life… he wasn't sure. But he could feel death's grip loosening the farther he got away from the old estate.

-ooooo-

Leaning back in his chair on the balcony that overlooked the garden, M smiled blazingly.  
The amused bodyguard swished the brownish liquid in the large crystal glass and raised it in the direction of the cop who he had just seen fleeing out of the front gates of the huge courtyard. 

"Here's to you, friend," he said chuckling quietly to himself. Sonora's _husband _had just made his escape for freedom and it was making a warm feeling build up inside the big man. A warmth that wasn't from the half empty bottle of whiskey in front of him. The wetness gathering in the corner of his eyes he decided to ignore completely.

M hadn't been able to shake how terrible he felt since they had found the place where Hutchinson's friends were hiding and the near attempt to massacre the inhabitants. It all could have ended horribly that night. Still, Sonora had worked her magic and the mixed up cop had mistakenly allowed Zak Latrielle's little girl to bring him back to her house of horrors. M was sad to think that Detective Kenneth Hutchinson would live out the rest of his short remaining days on earth with Sonora, his loving wife and killer. That's the way the story could have gone.

The bodyguard didn't realize how much he wanted to run too until he saw the detective… even in his weakened state, feeling death's hand on his shoulder, take off with all the strength he could muster.

The manor stank of it. Death-- in its legacy. Built on greed and murder. Murder not just of the body—but of the soul. The smell was pungent. Death of hope, dreams-- of love that life had tried to offer its inhabitants.

How much longer could he last here, the giant wondered? What a price to pay for a comfortable place to hide from the world's stares.

He had felt a wave of nausea so strong in that cabin that he was almost certain he was about to loose his credibility as a fearless, ruthless henchman.

Good vs. Evil—how much clearer could the line be drawn? Sides needed to be taken and being there with Sonora made it impossible for him choose in favor of his new friend and what was right.

If only he had been asked, he would have chosen the side of Good this time--picked up a kicking and screaming Sonora, offered a humble apology and a request for forgiveness and arranged for a plane to take the whole lot back to the states.

They had tried to destroy the life of good man. Not like the sort M was used to squashing under his boot without a second thought.

A price would have to be paid for what they had done.

M believed that he was going to have to answer for some of the bad things he had done in his life--but this unholy event was one he would not want to confess.

Detective Kenneth Hutchinson didn't deserve what Sonora had done to him, and he definitely didn't deserve to be on his deathbed looking into the face of the woman who had killed him-- mistaking her for his angel of mercy.

No…not when _**she** _was the real Monster in the house.

No, he wasn't the Monster. He was Frank. That's all anyone needed to know about him.

If anybody asked, that's what he'd tell them. He wasn't the name he had been assigned by a handful of taunting kids on a playground over twenty years ago. His name was Frank. He had the power all along to live as Francis…

Those two cops…

He had never seen anything like it. What he saw played out in front of him was great and frightening.

In his line of work he had witnessed how, with just the right amount of persuasion or pain, a person would chuck a good friendship out the window. Sell it down the river without a look back.

But—those two…

Putting themselves in danger, their very lives at risk-- no negotiations when it came to saving the other one. No briefcase full of green-- apparently no amount of pain—no risk too big—no sacrifice too small…

_What kind of love was that?_

It had M thinking strange thoughts. Wondering if maybe there was still a whole lot more he had to learn about life. Things he didn't know-- about people and about love and friendship.

The cop had treated him like somebody--not just 350 lbs. of muscle on sale to the highest bidder. Hutchinson hadn't asked for anything but gave him more than anyone else ever had. Gave him a name. Yeah. He was Frank.

-ooooo-

The knocking woke him up.

The somber mood in the cabin had sent everyone to bed early. Starsky glanced over at the clock- it was 3:26 a. m. and someone was knocking lightly at the door. Starsky wouldn't have heard it all, except he wasn't really sleeping--just shut down.

"All right!" he yelled with aggravation to the intruder.

Angry, he flung the door open and the cold air made him turn his face away before he had the chance to see the shivering man at the door was Hutch.

"Hutch! What the! Get in here," he demanded as he pulled his freezing partner inside.

"I-I..." Hutch's teeth chattered as he tried to speak.

Continuing to reprimand as he pushed his friend toward the roaring fire in the old wood-burning stove, Starsky told him, "You gotta stop wandering at night like this, buddy."

Hutch looked as bad as he had earlier.

"I t-told you..." he sputtered wearily to Starsky.

August entered the room, snuggled in a quilt. "What…"

Cutting off her question, Starsky waved a hand at the quilt. "Hey, gimme that, huh?"

Seeing a trembling Hutch standing in the small living room, she immediately yanked off the patchwork cloth and gave it to him.

"N-n-o-o, I g-got…got…" A body wracked with tremors stole the words from his mouth as Hutch tried to speak.

"OK. Sokay. Just take it easy, Hutch." Starsky barked out two instructions as he eased his partner on to the oversized couch. "Here, sit down, buddy." And to August, "Put on some hot water, K?"

"Sure. I'll get him some tea," August replied hurriedly.

Starsky pointed a finger in her direction and August immediately picked up his meaning.

"With a little whiskey?" she said.

"Right!" he confirmed

"S-Starsk…." Hutch said weakly.

"Shhh." Starsky quieted Hutch and started undoing Hutch's damp coat, busily working hard to warm him up.

"I—I…" Hutch stuttered.

"What the heck?" A sleep deprived Huggy asked as he made his way into the living room with an equally bedraggled Jay close behind him.

"How did he get here?" Jay wondered.

"Don't tell me..." Huggy's voice added in amazement.

"Starks…" Hutch took a weak hold of Starsky's arm.

"It's all right, we'll get you warmed up in a minute here, part'nr," Starsky assured, draping the heavy quilt around his partner.

"This guy think he's a polar bear?" Jay asked, his concern and worry negated the humor in the question. Huggy just shrugged a reply, his eyes glued on his two friends.

"I got some water on," August announced.

Starsky kept busy covering up his friend as the others talked back and forth. The dark-haired cop looked up to find Hutch studying him seriously.

"Starsk?" Hutch pleaded.

"Quiet," Starsky yelled, scolding the talkative group behind them so he could hear his friend.

They all looked at the two men as Hutch took hold of his friend's arm as he struggled to sit up, leaning in to get close to Starsky. "I told you, Stars I… I-I wanted to go home."

"So what are you…" A confused Starsky looked back at the three, who all were growing broad smiles on their faces.

Realization showed on his face as he turned back to Hutch.

"You mean…you…you sayin' you want to go back to Bay City?"

Hutch nodded tiredly. "Home. I wanta go home."

"Right!" Starsky said triumphantly. "OK. _OK!_" His expression was jubilant as he looked back to the rest of them. "You heard 'im. My partner wants to settle back into his roots. _You got it, boy!"_

"Right. Yeah." Starsky rose to his feet and surveyed the room. He clapped his hands together loudly. "OK. Let's get outta here."

People started scrambling around and suitcases and bags quickly found a place on the cabin's living room floor.

"I'll take care of everything. Trust me?" Starsky emphasized his commitment with a hand to Hutch's shoulder.

"Trust you, Starsk. T-t-take me home."

An energized Starsky went about the business of packing his stuff.

Jay pulled the dark-haired cop aside. "You know this ain't over. She's gonna come after you like gangbusters--no pun intended. You gotta take him somewhere no one can find you. Till he gets stable—otherwise, you two don't have a fightin' chance to beat this thing. We need to put some distance between him and Sonora. Let me take care of the details. I'll make sure you have everything you need. All right.

"Yeah, that makes sense. Jay, I don't know how…"

"Gotcha." Winking, he cut Starsky off and immediately made a beeline to the phone and the business of finding his friends a place where Sonora couldn't find them.

-ooooo-

Hideaway

"August, right?" he asked.

Looking at the weary, disheveled but still very handsome detective as he sipped the steaming cup of coffee, August felt a little flushed as his gaze settled on her. He was reading her.

Suddenly, feeling a little shy, she looked down at the back of her hands. So--this was the guy they had all risked their lives for.

Even though she had spent several nights playing nurse to him, it was different to now be sitting across from him, the penetrating stare of light blue looking inside her.

After all they were still a man and a woman who had been in an intimate space together. She had held his large hands in hers…had gently swept the silky hair from his damp forehead and let her fingers caress over his cheekbones… lifted his head in her hands to deliver cool water to his lips…had whispered calming words to the uncertainty and trepidation in his eyes. Now they were sitting face to face and he was wondering what kind of woman she was--which was making her very aware of what kind of man he was.

He had a strong presence and she didn't want to get all silly and flustered by it. After all he had been through, at this moment, they were still just man and woman…after all.

She let some air out of her mouth quietly as she made a decision to regain her bearings. "You shouldn't be up," she said firmly.

Hutch looked over to Starsky who lay sprawled across a much-too-small couch, quietly snoring and looking like he was deep in sleep.

"He's knocked out," Hutch said with concern. "Doesn't look too comfortable."

"It's probably the first sleep he's had in weeks," August added.

Hutch looked down guiltily and August put a hand on his arm. "Hey, that's not an indictment against you. He was just worried about his partner." Nodding back at Starsky, she added, "Story has it that-- _that_ could just as easily be you."

"Yeah, I guess that's right," Hutch answered tiredly.

She saw the cup in his hand start to shake and quickly reached out, putting her hands over his to steady it.

"I think you need to get back in bed before _this one_ here wakes up and has my head."

Too tired to protest, he allowed her to take the cup from him, help him to his feet and lead him back to bed.

"H-he's ok, isn't he?" a now worried sounding Hutch asked.

"Ken--_Hutch_. He's great now. He's got you back. Now, you better lie down," she instructed him.

August saw his energy dissipate, and watched as the turmoil started to overtake him again. Locks of light colored hair sticking out every which way made him look like a little boy she thought as she pulled up the covers around him. She could feel the tremors gaining on him. August didn't know why but she slipped into the bed next to him and put her arms around him.

"I told you David and I were gonna take care of you."

"I-I think I'm s-s-supposed to c-call…call her," Hutch said in a shaky voice. "She…she's...going to be worried. I don't want her to worry…_no worries?"_ His brow furrowed in contemplation of the words he had just spoken.

"No, baby…you don't need to call her," August told him in her best mother knows best voice. "If you call her, she'll want to know where you are and we _don't_ want her to know where you are, _right?"_

"I just…don't want her…to be worried," he said with strained sincerity.

August didn't know what else to say to the simple telling comment.

Despite it all.

She could have started crying, but she had promised herself to get all this emotional stuff in check. She had a job to do and she couldn't keep getting distracted by the totality of these feelings that were threatening to take over.

This was all new to her.

At home she had a simple life. That life consisted of a work-harder-than-anyone-else-at-the-bureau-have-a-glass-of-wine-with-dinner-watch-some-tv-go-to-bed-early existence. She was happy not to be tied down to some bad relationship or distracted by all the trouble friends and family brought with them.

It was a singularly satisfying lifestyle and now these two cops from Bay City were trying to bring her out of hiding.

Making her feel.

"No calls," she said to him with finality. After seeing the lost look in Hutch's face, she added, "I'm sorry. Now please try to get some rest. We've got a big day ahead of us."

She was looking forward to getting on a plane and getting back to her disconnected from the world existence.

Was that really even possible now?

She looked over at Starsky, who even in his sleep was protector/guardian--one of his hands resting solidly over his gun.

She was in bed with her arms around some man she had only met several days earlier. Who was trusting her… because David Starsky had told him he could.

She thought back to last night and what Starsky had told her about their friendship.

He told her how, at the academy, he had oddly kept bumping into Hutch.

A young man ready to fight the world, Starsky had gone into the academy with his guard up. Prepared for the hazing, beat downs, and sick jokes that it was notorious for. But he instead found this sophisticated mid-westerner who kept putting on a big smile, offering a corny joke, warm handshake, or pat on the back every time he got anywhere near the suspicious New Yorker.

It had started to make Starsky feel uncomfortable--especially when the other cadets started to razz the Brooklyn-born and raised, soon-to-be cop about Hutchinsons' affection for him.

It got to the point where Starsky, with all deliberateness avoided getting close enough for that Midwestern weirdo to lay a hand on him. The effort only put the lanky blond cadet under his harsh scrutiny, and, in his mission to avoid him, David Starsky was forced to observe Ken Hutchinson.

He saw a guy who would go out of his way to talk to the cafeteria ladies and the groundsmen. A person who was sincerely respectful to the superior officers who were their teachers, unlike many of the other recruits who often made rude comments about the instructors as soon as they were out of earshot.

The man Starsky saw put 100 into whatever was set before him— how could the kid from Big Apple not come to respect that. It wasn't just a work—but a life ethic that let Starsky see there was something pretty special about Ken Hutchinson – something beyond his good looks.

Starsky concluded a few pats on the back from someone who lived their life like that—wasn't so bad.

He turned a deaf ear to the taunts of his classmates.

It didn't take long at all for the cautious kid from New York to realize that he actually missed having the "big lug" around. One day he cornered Ken Hutchinson after class, offering an awkward apology along with an invitation to a Saturday afternoon at the ballpark. They had been more than friends ever since.

She replayed the question David had asked her:

"You ever have someone in your life that…you don't have to go through any kind of negotiations with to be around? Don't have to bargain with them on what terms they'll accept you on? I don't have to think about if I should put him first, cuz he puts _me_ first. You know-- somebody that don't ever change the way they receive ya. They've seen ya at your best and your worst--but still think you're worth everything. Worth givin' up their life for…" he paused. "You have expectations…and they don't ever fail ya. Hell, even if he ever did, I'd forgive him, and him, me…cuz there' ain't no going backwards. Not after everything that's happened between us."

August could almost see the light shining from his eyes as he went on. "We were working this case once. Making it look like Hutch had gone over…turned rotten. The guy we were setting up for a fall asked me--why should he believe that I'd be willing to turn bad cop, too? I told him… giving up Hutch to IA would be like me cuttin' off my arm…there was a lot of truth there." Looking through August, Starsky said, "He's part of me."

"He's blood," August said, quietly confirming his words.

Starsky looked at her with surprise, giving her back a smile that acknowledged she was right.

"Yeah, we're blood."

(tbc)


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 11**

For Everything There Is A Season

Jay had arranged a three-day stay at a private hospital. A close acquaintance of his, sworn to secrecy, ran a full battery of tests on Detective Hutchinson. An EEG didn't uncover any hardcore information as to what was causing the ongoing seizures the detective was experiencing.

Dr. Cornelius Whalen, Jay's friend and a specialist in the field of neurology, explained to Starsky and Jay what he thought the problem was. An imbalance in electrical activity in the brain was the likely cause of the debilitating attacks and the other abnormal neurological activity Hutch was plagued with.

The neurologist told them the seizures were breeding havoc inside Hutch's body. He prescribed an anticonvulsant in the expectation it would work to reduce the frequency and severity of their occurrence.

Seeing the lost look in Starsky's worn expression, Dr. Whalen added, "Please don't think it's hopeless. Some healthy lifestyle choices right now could go a long way in helping him regain normal function. Plenty of rest, eating the right foods, -- avoiding stress…" That made Starsky roll his eyes and the doctor gave him a knowing smile. "Well, _try_ to avoid stress. As he gets better, we can consider tapering the dose to reduce the chance of any withdrawal problems. The drugs I'm prescribing can be addictive…and… well, I can imagine that might be one of his concerns," he carefully added.

Admitting to revealing to the doctor Hutch's forced heroin addiction, Jay chimed in, "I thought he should know everything."

"I guess so," Starsky said with some uncertainty. Then he tiredly inquired, "Look, Doc. Tell me some more about these seizures."

The doctor slipped a hand into his lab coat pocket and paused to prepare his response. "A patient with the kind of seizures your friend has might experience random changes or loss of consciousness. You've already seen that. _Or_ his…awareness may be altered, producing a kind of dreamlike state. We've had other patients display strange, repetitious behaviors like blinking, twitching, or even walking in circles. There's no way I can tell you how they will manifest in your friend." The doctor allowed Starsky to digest what he said before stating, "The other thing that presents a problem is the cluster headaches."

"_Cluster?_ What are those?" Starsky asked.

The answer came from Jay, who under his breath pitched in. "Clusters--those are what keep knockin' his feet out from under him."

The doctor agreeing, contributed, "Yes, that's how they work. Generally, only a small population of men fall victim to this kind of particular headache, but Detective Hutchinson is responding to a very aggressive assault on his system. These things are pretty vicious. The pain from one of them usually comes on quickly--without warning, reaches a crescendo within 2 to 15 minutes. They're often excruciating in intensity, and can last anywhere from 30 minutes to 2 hours. Amped up by the synthetic chemicals pumped into his body, it appears the duration of the headaches, in his case, have increased considerably. I clocked one at nearly five hours. That's atypical."

"Can't you prescribe something for them?" Starsky inquired.

"Absolutely, I'm giving you something for them, too. Unfortunately, I can't guarantee they'll help. Not everybody gets relief from the meds. We can only pray that as his condition stabilizes and, _whatever _it was they were giving him, works its way out of his system, that the **_damn_** things will stop." The doctor, slightly embarrassed for letting a little unprofessional anger show through, cast his eyes downward.

Putting a hand on Starsky's shoulder, Jay hinted gingerly, "It's…the…ahh…the kind of pain that could…ahh…push a person to …to do something desperate. Understand?"

Understanding exacting what the implication was, Starsky said roughly, "Hutch wouldn't do that."

Jay continued making the point. "I just want you to know you _need _to watch out…"

"He wouldn't do that!" The edginess in Starsky's voice put an end to Jay's attempt to warn him of suicide being a risk factor for his partner.

The tense silence that followed was interrupted by the concerned specialist pondering out loud, "I'm not at all sure what to say about his memory, though."

Starsky and Jay both waited for the doctor to finish his pensive observations.

The white-coated surgeon continued. "Not like an everyday case. Somebody with serious head trauma from an accident or fall, I can give a prognosis, suggest rehab, or treatment that can aid a patient's recovery. Lots of ways to retrain the brain. Somewhere in that process we can determine what the extent of their memory loss is. _But_, what your friend's abductors did, very smartly I might add, through some sophisticated brainwashing, hypnosis techniques, and chemicals, they mixed in the truth of his past with fantasy-- essentially creating a false reality. The process of memory is complicated. Honestly, we only partly understand how it works. Reconstructing his long-term memory of the life he had in Bay City is most likely going to happen naturally as he reunites with the past. It's going to be difficult for him to unravel it on his own. He's going to need to trust whoever is guiding him through it, but must go at his own pace. _That's critical._ You can't force it down his throat. Look, he plays guitar. Right? Your buddy could very well remember how to play but might need you to remind him that he played it last year at the annual picnic. Now, as you start painting the picture for him of what he played, who got up to dance, who was smiling – Detective Hutchinson could be flooded with memories of that event _and who knows_, childhood memories of a similar experience all at the same time. Could be very emotional, or embarrassing-- not remembering people and situations from his own life."

"It's weird, he hasn't asked a lot of questions yet about…us… being partners or Bay City but, still…nothin's different between us." Starsky was getting frustrated that he wasn't able to explain to the doctor how the bond between him and Hutch was virtually undamaged in the midst of all the confusion and devastation around them.

"_Some things_ about the human spirit even science can't explain. The relationship between you two was obviously important enough for him to protect against the assault to his psyche. Hey, that's a good thing, isn't it?"

Starsky smiled. "Yeah."

"You know, I wish you guys weren't going to be flying blind. I wish there was something I could find on an X-ray and say, _see-_ _that's_ where the damage is—and _here's_ what we're going to do to fix it. It's frustrating to not be able to give you something more definitive. I can tell you--some parts of what he knew might never come back. It might all come back like a tidal wave-- or like a flip of a light switch-with no fanfare at all. He obviously remembers you. But, don't be fooled by that. Trying to separate fact from fiction is more likely going to be his challenge. It won't be easy to untangle it all. It just might be impossible."

Seeing Starsk's shoulders sink, Jay patted him on the back. "Look, Dave, it's gonna be rough, but my money's on you guys. Nobody breaks free of the Latrielles alive. Don't forget that accomplishment. Ken's gonna need to look in your face and believe that he can do this. If you're gonna decide right here and now that it's over, it'd be better letting him take his chances here in the hospital. Whalen only agreed to release him cuz I _guaranteed_ we were prepared to do whatever it takes. I thought that was the plan. You change your mind?" he asked, confronting Starsky with aggressive posturing.

"NO! No. I--_we'll_ be all right. I just was hoping this whole thing was over. For his sake," Starsky answered.

"He's alive," Jay said enthusiastically.

Starsky's eyes misted over, and he gave them his broad signature smile that caused the other two men to grin, too. The dark haired detective replied, "Yeah. OK…so this is the anticonvulsant." He held out one of the prescription bottles.

"Yes, see here," Jay said, pointing to one of the pages of hand written instructions in Starsky's grip. "We're decreasing the dose over time. You just can't stop giving him these--either one. OK--no matter how much trouble he gives you about taking them."

"Gotcha. And these are for the…ahh, clusters," Starsky stated about the other small bottle he held on to.

"Exactly. Now I put enough of both prescriptions and some others in the car. They're in the trunk in a black case along with some first aid stuff. Everything you need is in there."

Starsky gave him a grateful nod. He took a moment to thank God for this new friend who had gone above and beyond to make a miracle happen. The fact that Hutch was out of the hands of Sonora was because of Jay's doggedness to knock each and every obstacle out of the way. The Bay City cop didn't have the words to tell him how much it meant to him to have his partner back. To be able to start overseeing that Hutch would get the safekeeping that he needed.

Starsky knew how to take care of his partner better than anyone else on earth. Just like Hutch would know how to take care of him.

It might have come as a surprise to other folks-- but not to him -- that Hutch had needs. It was a fact the mid-westerner, always putting up a strong front to rally those around him, tried to hide. Hutch, trying to bury his hurt in a locked vault, was, at times, his own worst enemy. The guy never realized that he wasn't that good at walking around wounded.

Starsky could easily chart the damage on the familiar face of his partner--- muscles flexing in a tight jaw… in the way his best friend walked-- carrying the burden in the middle of his back. Starsky could tell when the smile was for real or if it was trying to hide something behind a flash of white teeth. The alarm would go out in the silent brooding that would settle on his friend. All warning signs that his best friend needed to be checked on.

Few people had been witness to the depths of where Hutch's anger or hurt could go.

There were a handful of occasions when Starsky had looked into Hutch's eyes and been frightened by what he saw there. Afraid for the object of his wrath or disdain and afraid that Hutch might not be able to release it—setting off some deadly explosion inside.

Wasn't gonna happen on Starsky's watch.

So, Starsky would have to walk his partner into a corner, forcing eye contact and in some perfectly constructed sentence--solicit—_demand_ Hutch tell him what was wrong. Hutch would try and throw him off track by dismissing his friend's concern. But, Starsky wouldn't budge until Hutch would allow him to look into his face--taking down his defenses with the worry on his own. And then Hutch would let him in. Let Starsky view the new cut and carefully cleanse it with just the right tone emanating from somewhere deep inside the dark haired man. With words… bandage it. Stitch it up with a touch to an arm, or the flatness of a warm palm to a heaving chest…the weight of a resting a hand on his shoulder. Hutch --defused, would respond with a nod that it had worked. Perhaps close his eyes to receive the infusion of peace.

Starsky wasn't sure why he had the power to do such an exorcism on Hutch's demons-- but he knew it was real. Just like Hutch knew the exact sequence to stop the raging waters inside him, too.

When his partner was in trouble, Starsky could almost hear it. Receiving the call for help on some high pitched frequency only he could hear-- like the ones only dogs and insects could register. It would reverberate, pulsing in his head--get under his skin—throwing off his ability to function like a normal human being. Distracting him, it made him answer to people who attempted to communicate with him as he tried to fine tune his reception of it, with an impatient "What!"

In that hospital corridor the signal was supersonic.

Hutch was hurting and Starsky was getting bombarded with his call for help. Starsky needed to find the gaping cavern that had cut a slice straight through Hutch's center. Examine the damage. Put all of his attention and effort into locating where the deepest injury was. Excavate it and dismiss it. Send it running with its tail between its legs. He was going to have to take his partner to a safe place. Remind him how much power he had to bring healing. Touch him--lay hands, and plant strong words inside him--cut out the corners Hutch would run to get in. It was why they were going into hiding. Not to mention that Sonora probably had a legion of underlings trying to find them…trying to find Hutch.

"**_Detective?_" **The sound in the doctor's voice stressed there had been some previous calls to get Starsky's attention.

"Sorry, doc…just thinking," Starksy said apologetically.

"You know you're more than welcome to stay here at the hospital. Both of you. Security won't be a problem. We'll see to that."

"Would you be givin' him any other treatment outside of these pills?" Starksy asked.

"Probably not."

"I think me and Hutch will do better on our own right now. I know 'im like the back of my hand. An extended hospital stay is the last thing he needs right now."

"I understand," the doctor said. "Well, I've got a few other patients I should check on. Good luck, officer."

"Thanks, doc," Starsky told him as he shook the hand extended to him.

Jay and his friend hugged and exchanged a few hushed words Starsky didn't hear and then Dr. Whalen scurried down the hallway.

Jay turned back to Starsky with more instructions. "_Don't_ try to contact me, _no matter what._ I want to put some distance between us. Sonora's people will be sure to have a tail on me. I'll check up on you guys in about five to six weeks or so. I'll come out there. Don't worry—I'll make sure nobody follows me. The house is all set. Food, firewood, everything you need is there. Now…" he paused, giving Starsky one more item. "Here's the telephone number to a doctor not far from the house. He's a friend–he knows you may call _and_ to be discreet."

"Jay, I…I…" struggling because he wasn't sure if he could put in words how much he had to say, Starsky became overwhelmed.

Jay moved closer to the woeful cop, placing an arm over Starsky's shoulder, he quietly spoke to him. "David, look, it's what I do. You guys took me on quite a ride. Not a minute of boredom with you two around. I told you, when we started, to trust me and you did.

I appreciate that and I'm gonna ride this out with you both. It ain't over yet."

Starsky nodded in agreement. It wasn't close to being over.

Jay gave one arm a strengthening squeeze, then checking the time, said, "Hey, I better get outta here. Huggy and August got that plane waiting for me." Remembering another detail, he dug into his pockets. Chuckling, he said, "Oh, you'll need these. Here's the house keys and the car's. I told ya where I parked it, right?"

"Yeah, out back, right," Starsky confirmed.

It was their turn to trade hugs and then Jay made his way down the hallway.

"Take good care of him," Jay called out before he exited to leave Starsky standing alone in the dimly lit hospital corridor.

"I will."

Starsky had his mission. It wasn't a new one.

"_Take good care of him."_

Protector, guardian, friend. No harm…no _more_ harm to the man who had given up his life for him. Starsky felt the vow he made growing in him. His mission.

It was the glorious smell that made him look up to find the nurse, who stood in front of him, holding a tray full of food.

"That guy that just left promised me a steak dinner next time he's in town if I get you to eat this and then tuck you into bed. He said you have a long journey ahead of you and wanted to make sure you got off on the right foot."

Starsky's eyes widened as he gazed down at the plate of crisply broiled chicken, roasted red potatoes, and bright green string beans slathered with butter. Several crescent rolls took up a prominent place on the tray along with a large serving of rice pudding topped with whipped cream. Dazed by the beauty of it, he took the tray from her, practically humming out loud.

The woman then reached into both her pockets, her eyes dancing, she held up two bottles of beer. "You didn't get these from me."

It was the best meal he ever had, and Starsky slept like a baby.

o00000o

Vignettes: In A Safe Place (A Friend in Need)

Starsky had gotten Hutch settled in bed. His plan was to secure the cabin and take a walk outside to check out the grounds. Hutch's fingers gripping onto the sleeve of his shirt put all that on the back burner. Starsky interpreted the meaning of the clutching hand and eased back into the chair, not even attempting to release himself from the hold the sleeping man had on him.

They had their own language. A form--a way of communication-- a raised eyebrow, a deep breath of air, a slight hand gesture-- that carried messages back and forth between them. The capturing of his sleeve was more of the _Me and Thee_ talk they both had become fluent in. Others could observe it, but no one else could translate it but them. The two of them had never spoken of it – didn't have to.

Starsky knew exactly what the fingers grasping at the cuff of his sleeve meant. So he'd stay put until Hutch saw fit to free him.

o00000o

Hutch awakened. Lately, when he woke up-- the confusion of wondering where he was sent him into instant panic. It was disturbing to not be able to remember where he was when he fell asleep and where he was waking up. He recalled that Starsky and Jay had taken him to a hospital and that a doctor had told him not to worry about the tests he was performing on him. He wasn't at that hospital. The panic was stilted only by the fact that Starsky was asleep, snoring loudly, slumped in the chair by the bed. It was a calming sight.

Starsky was there and, if he was asleep, then there weren't any monsters close by. He wondered where Sonora was. As quickly as the thought slipped out, nausea rose up to the back of his throat.

_Sonora!_

Oh, God. He shouldn't be thinking about her.

_NO! _

He had to block her voice, her scent, her smiling up at him, gently caressing his face.

_No!_

He kicked his feet from under the blanket covering him and sat up abruptly, hoping the shooting pain to his head that would follow the quick movement would be proper punishment for thinking about her.

Sitting closer to his snoring friend gave Hutch a better view of his devoted partner. The wrinkled clothes were a loose fit on the food deprived body. Hutch studied the face. A face abused by worry and lack of sleep was scarred with darkened circles under the eyes and lines Hutch didn't think had been there months earlier. _Not that he remembered,_ he thought sarcastically to himself.

Hutch was playing a little bit of a game on Starsky. The clever kid from Minnesota, who had starred in several junior high school plays, was doing his best to keep Starsky from finding out just how messed up he was. Using some of those acting skills learned back in 7th grade, the golden-haired cop was putting on a grand performance.

The goal was not about hiding but about protecting. Looking at the harried condition of his partner was confirmation that he needed to extend the role for a few more weeks. How Starsky must have suffered. The thought of the months his partner had wondered if he was alive --must have been its own brand of torture. Hutch couldn't process why he hadn't made even just one call to Starsky to tell him he was all right. It just didn't make sense and Hutch couldn't forgive himself for not doing _something -- anything_ to circumvent the misery. One phone call. How could he have done that to his partner—his best friend? His hands hadn't been tied behind his back.

Another thing Hutch wasn't able to tell anyone—

There was a big empty blank spot over much of the life he would be returning to. Where did he live? Where did he go for coffee in the morning? What people at work didn't he get along with? He wasn't even sure he knew how to be a cop—_that _would freak out Starsky for sure. He hadn't forgotten that he had close friendships with Huggy and Captain Dobey and his family-- but he couldn't recall one Christmas or Thanksgiving memory of sitting across a table from any of them.

Hutch loved his partner too much to tell him he had also lost days—months—years of conversation between them, experiences conspicuously gone. He couldn't tell Starsky that.

Minute by minute, Hutch had to be deliberate in corralling his wayward crazy thoughts-- impulses to turn himself over to the very people Starsky had moved heaven and earth to rescue him from.

He missed Frank and his wife.

_His wife! _

Just as Hutch lurched forward, Starsky's hand was on his back.

"Where ya going?" A drowsy Starsky stood up to question him.

Hutch shook his head. "No-no where."

"Well, maybe you need to get back in the bed then." Starsky tiredly advised through a yawn. "Come on, back in there," he directed.

Hutch, giving his friend a tepid smile, did what he was told.

o00000o

"_Sonora?"_

He often asked for her. Starsky didn't exactly know what to do, or say when he did. The dark-haired detective would just wait for his partner to wake up and be sure Hutch knew he was there.

"Hey, buddy. I'm here," was all Starsky could offer in response.

Whatever was going on inside the head of his partner would be punctuated by the repeated painful sighs of exasperation coming out of him. The discomfort was highlighted by the aura of confusion and mania that was pushing Hutch's fortitude to its limit.

The first evening at the safehouse, Starsky got into the old- fashioned log bed with Hutch, spending the night pulling back arms that reached out for mercy and the long legs searching for solid ground back into the bed. Hutch fighting his dreams-- stranded in some distant badlands. Starsky whispered over and over to him words of promise of the peace in the days ahead.

Better days ahead.

Finally, Hutch's body relaxed against him and Starsky sighed gratefully, immediately giving in to sleep.

The dark-haired man woke up exactly six hours later. Hutch had fallen off him, lying on his side with his back to his caretaker- partner--deep breaths confirming he was sleeping. Starsky forced himself out of bed and showered. A short – but very hot one to anesthetize the ache in his muscles from sleeping sitting up against the hard wooden headboard.

Finding the kitchen fully stocked, the still sleepy cop almost flipped out when he found the bowl of oranges sitting boldly on a kitchen shelf. "Hypnotic trigger," he accused. Bagging them, he tossed them in the garbage.

Making a pot of strong coffee-- with a ridiculous amount of the dark ground beans, he looked up to find Hutch's hunched over figure walking toward him.

"Hey, what are you doing up?" Quickly meeting Hutch in the middle of the kitchen, Starsky put a hand around his partner's waist as help to support his swaying posture.

Hutch's worn out appearance sadly reminded him of that morning after the 48 hours of pain and sweat in that room above Huggy's place.

"Why didn't you call me, huh?" Starsky said with laughter in his voice.

Hutch answered with a weak smile and clung on to his friend.

"Hey, let's sit," Starsky suggested, his New York accent heavy with the morning. He led Hutch to a couch and plopped down next to him. Hutch's head dropped back on the couch and he instantly fell back to sleep.

Hutch had awakened-- finding no Starsky-- set out to find him.

It was a perfect display of their dependence on each other and the reason why Starsky had pushed himself to drive the seven hours to the cabin in the middle of nowhere. In seclusion-- there wouldn't be anything to block the natural flow of communication between the partners.

Starsky had been engulfed by his own angst about their separation. Hutch's action illustrated that he also had to deal with the ordeal of that separation. He had gotten up out of bed because he needed to make sure Starsky was nearby.

He didn't have to give Starsky an explanation that elucidated his behavior.

Starsky had never had this kind of relationship with another man—_another person_ in his life. They were beacons to one another. Always the light at the end of the tunnel. The other's presence brought with it a healing balm, a regulator to the craziness inside, human barometers to measure the fluctuations of the other man's spirit—forever ready to bring reconciliation to life's wounding traumas. Providing a safe place to fall or stand.

He wasn't sure when it was they had become so interwoven-- so attached and in sync. The relationship had raised a lot of questioning eyebrows, smirks, and whispers from people. Honestly, in the beginning, it had embarrassed the tough guy from back east just a little bit. He compensated for it by adding a little more macho-ness to his swagger and a tad more bass to his voice. Then it started to amuse both of them. So, they played up their affection for one another with comments filled with easy to misconstrue vocabulary. Looked to create awkward moments just for the sheer pleasure of laughing about it later. But, as time went on, neither he nor Hutch bothered anymore with processing people's reaction to their closeness. Heck they called each other babe sometimes—Starsky wasn't sure how that got started.

They _were_ what they _were_. That was good enough of an explanation for the two of them.

Later that night, he found Hutch wandering around the dark living room.

"Hutch? What ya doing here in the dark? You stub your toe, we're miles from the nearest emergency room," Starsky attempted to joke.

"She's gonna kill me," Hutch said with certainty, looking around the room like a frightened kid and making his way to the door that would lead him outside to the wet grass and shadow.

"No. No. _Hey!_ Where you going, boy?" Starsky asked, taking hold of one of Hutch's arms as he attempted to stop him from leaving.

"We gotta get _out_ of here!" Hutch insisted. "_She's gonna kill me and she's gonna. k-kill you. Ss-she..."_

"No. Hey. Listen. _Listen_, Hutch. That's in the past. I'm tellin' ya…" Starsky tried to calm his friend, who still frantically looked around the room.

"She's not here, Blintz."

Hutch carefully studied Starsky's face for the truth.

"She's not here," the dark-haired cop said again more firmly to his partner. "Hey, you're shakin'," Starsky said worriedly, rubbing a calming hand up and down Hutch's arm.

"I saw her," Hutch explained to him.

"She's not here, Hutch."

"Oh." Hutch sounded unconvinced as his eyes traveled the room.

Starsky nodded his head in confirmation and Hutch's shoulders relaxed in surrender but his face turned red with anger. "I don't know how-- how to keep her out! She won't leave me alone, _ever!"_

"Sokay." Starsky's voice softened as he lightly massaged his friend's back.

"_Why?_ Why am I like this? Why…"

"Look…buddy-- she put stuff in your head. She got in there and screwed it all up…it's not your fault."

"NO! D-Don't wanna talk 'bout…" Hutch's voice fell silent.

"All right," Starsky said, cautiously eyeing his distressed friend.

Hutch wasn't ready to talk or hear about what was wrong with him. He hadn't asked the doctor any questions. Never even uttered a word about the pills Starsky dispensed to him every four hours. Starsky was used to going rounds with his partner when it came to getting him to ingest any form of medicine.

"Hutch? You know that Sonora and that doctor creep of hers messed with your head. It's not just about the drugs- do you get that?"

"_Damn it, Starsky!_ I said I don't want to…"

"All right, Buddy." Starsky let the topic drop. Dr. Whalen had said that he was going to have to let Hutch move at his own pace. His partner wasn't able to talk about what had been done to him. Not yet. Hopefully it would be soon.

o00000o

The signal went out.

Starsky woke up with a start. He lumbered his tired body to his feet. Dazed and sleepy, he made his way to Hutch's bed.

Hutch's condition had been the reason for his abrupt awakening. Something was wrong.

His eyes were open but Starsky's instincts told him there was more going on.

Calling Hutch's name out loud had not gotten any reaction. He was non-responsive. No cold cloth, patting his face, not even a gentle pinch-- had caused any reaction. Starsky nervously paced the room a few minutes-- thinking. _Did he need more meds?_ Starsky was dutiful in keeping the dosage schedule, so that shouldn't be it. Maybe Hutch was having a reaction _to_ the medications. Maybe he should try to get Hutch in the shower –and let the cold water run over his body—but, _what if that did more damage, _he wondered?

"Hutch! Hutch? _C'mon_. What's going on here, partner? Hey!" Starsky nudged him more aggressively. Hutch didn't even give a blink back in reply to the near frantic sound in his partner's voice.

Anxiety kicked in and Starsky could feel and hear the acceleration of his own heartbeat.

Then he remembered Jay's friend. Searching through the nightstand drawer that he had deliberately put all the pills and doctor's instructions in, the nervous caretaker located the paper with the carefully written telephone number and made the call.

ooo

The doctor, a cliché of the small town lone physician, had ignored Starsky completely while he examined Hutch. The minutes ticked by extra slow and Starsky was getting more anxious with each one that passed, as he forced himself to stay out of the way.

"You've been examining him for twenty minutes. What's wrong with him!" Starsky demanded in a raspy attempt at whispering.

"He might be able to hear us. Not intendin' to keep anything from him, so you don't need to whisper," the elderly man answered, as he peered into Hutch's slightly opened eyes.

"Young man, can you hear me? I'm here to help you. You're doing just fine…"

"His name is Hutch or you can call him Ken."

The old man frowned at Starsky "He knows who I'm talking to," the doctor responded sternly. Returning to the role of gentle country doctor, the elder said to his patient, "You're going to be just fine, Kenny." He gave a caring touch to a cheek. "You just try to relax, son. This spell will pass by before you know it," he added.

The doctor gathered up his possessions, haphazardly tossing them into a beaten up old leather bag. He pointed Starsky toward the living room and, leaving the bedroom, the Bay City cop followed him.

"Well, what is it?" a flustered Starsky asked as soon as they entered the other room.

"Well, neurology's not my strong suit. But I think it's what they call a complex partial seizure. It's a different state of consciousness. Probably had them before—you mighta thought he was sleeping or noddin' off. When it comes to seizures, there's all shapes and sizes. This particular kind's got your friend out on Saturn somewhere. If he was my patient, I'd try another medication to see if that would help. Somethin' that might give him a better result. It's just the luck of the draw when it comes to finding the right one. I'm not saying what he's takin' ain't working, just sayin' there might be somethin' better."

"His doctor did give us few difference prescriptions for the headaches."

"Well, that's good. Under the circumstances, I'd suggest you just continue givin' him that anticonvulsant for now. If he has another seizure like this one, just keep talkin' to him. Chances are he may not remember what you said-- but just knowing somebody is close by might lessen some of the anxiety."

Starsky was still flustered by the episode. "He wasn't responding…like in a trance."

"Don't mean he can't hear you. BP's a little high. Probably scares the heck out of him, too. Outside of the blood pressure, rest of his vitals are OK. He's looking a bit thin. Is he eatin'?"

"We're working on that and exercise--walks. Jay told me how important it was to get his strength back."

"That's good. You keep that up." The older man paused, looking Starsky dead in the eye. "The most important thing is to let him know that he's not going through this alone." It was only then that the older man showed a bit of mercy to Starsky as he transmitted some understanding through a warmth shining through the aged eyes.

Starsky immediately felt some of the dread lift off him. The old guy knew exactly how to patch up the hurting. The drained man got a boost from the simple exchange. The doctor was right. Things were going to be rough but, no matter what, the most important thing was that Hutch knew he had his best friend by his side. "Don't worry. I'll take good care of him."

"I hope so, son. With what's happened to him, that boy should be in a hospital." The doctor's frown returned as he gave the reprimand. "This could turn nasty. His condition _should _be closely monitored. I'd check on him regularly, but Jay told me to keep my two cents out of this."

"It's a messed up situation," Starsky told him.

"Yes, it is," the elder concurred. The nameless country doctor let himself out without another word.

o00000o

Hutch slid the book out from underneath the couch cushion. The title, "Brainwashing: The Burden on the Human Mind and Spirit" glared back at him.

Starsky reentered the room and was surprised to find the hurt and anger flashing on Hutch's face that accompanied the forthcoming verbal strike. "What's this!" Hutch demanded.

Unprepared, Starsky halted. A little bit of guilt nipped at him and he closed his eyes for the briefest of seconds. He walked quietly over to the closet and pulled out an overstuffed duffel bag. Bringing the heavy sack into the middle of the room, Starsky finally spoke, "Jay left these for us." Opening the bag, he began to remove one book after another, laying them on the living room table until the bag was empty.

"I just wanted to wait for the right moment. I wanted you to get your feet under ya before I showed them to you. I know how you tick, Hutch, and I could see you trying to get through them all …losing sleep..." Starsky's voice fell off.

Hutch picked up each book, read the title, and then carefully laid the book back down on the table.

The subjects—Head Injuries, Brainwashing…Mind Control, Torture, Neurology. Titles-- Cluster Headache: Treatments and Medication; The Stolen Mind: Historical Study of Brainwashing; Victims…victims...of…survivors of…

His hand rested on top of them. "You read these?"

"Parts."

"So, doc, am I gonna live?" Hutch asked with sarcasm.

"Don't do that!" Starsky admonished.

He wasn't going to let Hutch try and use his feelings of hurt to push him away. He sat next to Hutch on the couch, putting an arm around Hutch's shoulder. Starsky peered sideways into his friend's face.

"We're in this together. Don't ever forget that. Hmmm?"

Hutch relaxed and the confession came out. "I-I feel like a freak!" He turned to face Starsky. "What am I? I don't know what I like, don't like…Starsk…"

"I understand." Starsky assured him. "But, maybe…we'll find somethin' in those books, nodding to the large pileup in front of them." Jay said Sonora and her doctor pal did a real good job on you. But, he thinks there could still be a lot of stuff still in there." Gently laying a hand to Hutch's head and then pointing a finger to Hutch's heart. "And here."

Hopeful tears rushed into Hutch's eyes and he blurted out, "Starsk, I forgot stuff…about me…my family…stuff about us. What if I don't ever get 'em back?"

Starsky sighed heavily. "I don't know. But we can try, huh? You know… I remember a lot of stuff I can tell you about."

Hutch reached for one of the books, letting his fingers trace over the white lettered title on the hard black cover.

"Look, only thing is… you can read these, _but _it don't mean you can stop doin' all the other stuff. Jay said we needa focus on your health. That means sleepin', eating-- that's three meals minimum, buddy. Exercise, too. We're not taking any chances. You keep doin' what you're supposed to, OK? If I see you digging yourself into a pit with these," giving an accusing glance at the medical books, "I'm cutting you off. Deal?"

"All right," Hutch said. "So I can take one of these now?"

Starsky shrugged his approval and watched as Hutch leaned over to pick up one of the large reference books.

Laying it open on his lap, the blond-haired cop immediately engrossed himself with the words on the pages in front of him.

o00000o

Starsky could almost hear the time bomb ticking.

Hutch had pushed by him in the hallway when he had come out from his shower—not even letting their eyes share contact. The time bomb sat and, out of character, shoveled the breakfast into his mouth, without sharing a word of good morning.

Hutch stalked his way into the living room, his focus on the books sprawled over the table and floor.

This had been the third day that the recuperating man was going to spend flipping through the medical books they both believed held the secret to unlocking the prison door his memories were held behind.

Starsky stood in the doorway carefully studying the hunched over new student of neurology. Twenty minutes into this session, Starsky readied himself to make a move to interrupt today's lesson. He could see the disgust forming on Hutch's pinched and angry face.

He guardedly moved closer to peer over Hutch's shoulder to the book in his lap that was aggressively being flipped through. The graphic images of the head shots of various brain surgeries, head injuries, deformities…rows of thick black stitches glared back at him. He could hear the condemnation sputtered through Hutch's clenched teeth, "Freak…freak…freak."

Starsky bent over swiping a hand at the medical book and Hutch got up on his feet, clutching the book to him. He looked like a wild man as the fear on his face announced that all hell was about to break loose.

The sound that came out was like a war cry. Hutch began ferociously ripping the pages from the clinical tome in his hand.

"Freak!" he yelled, smashing the textbook against the fireplace mantle, knocking the ceramic and glass knick knacks to the floor.

"Freak!" He lumbered forward, picking up more of the books and flinging them with all his strength in different directions--smashing down lamps and clay vases that decorated the space. Starsky moved quickly to duck out of the way of the flying items. Uncertain if he should try and restrain Hutch or not, he let the rampage continue for a few more minutes, allowing his friend to flip over the furniture and rip the curtains down to the floor.

"Nothin'…b-but…but a _freak_. That's… all I am," Hutch yelled, and it was then that Starsky moved boldly on him. Hutch, having exhausted himself, had little defense against Starsky who wrapped his arms around his partner and pulled him to the floor in an attempt to comfort and calm the man teetering on the edge of a breakdown.

"You're not a freak," Starsky whispered quietly.

Hutch weakly struggled against him.

Drenched in self-hatred, "MMM FREAK!" Hutch yelled back louder, as he tried to twist his body out of his friend's tight embrace.

"Sshhh," Starsky hummed into his ear. "You're not."

They lay there until Hutch stopped struggling.

"I'm gonna let you up. OK?"

Hutch just grunted and Starsky released him. The taller man rolled over to his side drawing in big breaths to get air into his lungs.

Smiling to himself, Starsky surveyed the disaster around them. He was actually relieved to see that Hutch was finally getting mad about what had happened to him. Starsky had seen the hurt, seen the pain, the fear and confusion, too much of it. Witnessing that there was still some fight in his partner warmed his heart.

Giving him an understanding grin, Starsky asked, "Feel better?"

A defiant, still angry Hutch sat up, speaking into Starsky's face. "I'm a freak!"

"Hutch…"

"D-Do you know…this morning-- _your buddy_--_your partner_…woke up and…I- I was looking for _her_…for Sonora. I wanted…" He looked away guiltily. "I could smell her perfume...I wanted to make love to her," he spat out in disgust. Hutch raised his eyes. "I _hate_ her one minute, can't live without her the next."

"Hutch, I'd _die_ before I let her get to you again."

"DO YOU THINK I WANT TO HEAR THAT?" Hutch pushed himself to his feet. "That you'd _die!_ That's supposed to make me _feel _better. She'll kill you, Starsk._ You _showed me the pictures."

Hutch faltered in his stance. "She's in my head. Can't get her out. _Why?_ Why I am like this?" The hurting man squeezed his eyes tight as if to dispel her image. "I can't stop thinking about her. It-It's…sick!"

Starsky moved in front of him. Taking hold of Hutch's arms, he pulled him closer. Starsky wanted to make sure his friend understood he wasn't to blame. None of it— not even the thoughts that were making him feel like a traitor to his best friend. "Hutch, she put stuff in your head. She got in there and screwed it all up…it's not your fault."

Hutch was making an effort to hear him, so Starsky kept talking. "Look, partner, you know that Sonora and that doc of hers messed with your head. It's _not _just about the drugs they gave ya-- do you get that?"

"No. I mean I-I don't' know…not sure." Hutch tried to explain. "It's like if I'm awake--it feels like I'm empty. But, if-if I close my eyes, I get bombarded with everything at once. Can't focus on one thing—it's all bundled together so tight. I can't shake anything loose—it's too hard. I-I'm trying…I want to remember…I want…to…"

Tears welled up and Hutch dropped his head down in shame. His hair fell forward to partially hide his face from his worried partner.

"Hey, don't do that. Buddy, you're strong--that's why you're here. You beat 'em. You heard what Jay said about the other people Dr. Archelaus got to. You know what I think? I betcha' you kept a hold on everything. You gotta believe that, too. It's still in there, and someday it'll surface again. You'll get your confidence back. Memories back. But, if you're scared now- that's OK. Nothing you should be ashamed of. Hear me? I don't want you beatin' yourself up about that. We got some work to do. Hutch? Just you and me, huh? For as long as you need to put the pieces back together --I'm here." Tugging on him, Starsky put an arm round his friend's neck and held up a fist. "Me and you, buddy." Squinting his eyes to emphasize, he reminded Hutch, "They don't know who they're messing with. Right?"

Giving Starsky a sideways glance, Hutch remembered the words he spoke to his friend months before, the first night they drove up to the long winding driveway to the Latrielle Frankensteinlike castle and Hutch had tried to put Starsky's fears to rest:

_"Hutch, somethin' don't feel right."_

_"That's why we gotta be on point, partner. They don't know who they're messing with. Right?" _

He remembered that--clearly.

"_Yeah_," Hutch choked out, "they don't know who they're messing with," recognition showing on his face.

Exuberant that his friend recalled the exchange they had had months before, Starsky echoed, "Yeah."

There was a moment of quiet of jubilation before Starsky said, "Hhmmm?" as he petitioned Hutch to be encouraged.

"OK, Starsk."

"Good."

Hutch stood back from him, shaking his head as he surveyed the room and the damage around them.

Giving Starsky a sheepish look and apology, he said, "Sorry."

Starsky returned a reassuring smile to him. "If you hadn't done it, I probably would have. We're both wound so tight. Guess you did it for both of us. Least we know what we'll be doin' for the rest of the day, huh?"

o00000o

He was scared. Scared of everything. Scared of the shadows he saw out of the side of his eyes who taunted him with their quick ducking motions behind him. Scared of light that seemed to beat down on him furiously--making him want to crawl in a corner and hide. But he couldn't hide. Shouldn't want to hide. Starsky had told him they were safe. And he didn't want Starsky to know that his rescue from Sonora wasn't entirely successful.

Hutch couldn't stop thinking about her. Dreaming about her…craving her…

Sometimes, got confused about if he was _"Mr. Latrielle_" or Hutch.

He felt her tiny hand resting on the small of his back.

Woke up expecting to stretch his body and look out through the large bay window in the bedroom he shared with her. Expected to see the courtyard and bountiful garden that had greeted the couple each morning. Wanted--_desired_ to hear her wishing him a good morning and to gather her in his arms—she laying her head on his bare chest and humming a melody he couldn't get out of his head.

He could hear it even now.

He couldn't--wouldn't tell his friend about how badly he felt. Physically unraveling. Spiraling downward, he just smiled faintly to the purpose-driven Starsky who distributed his prescriptions to him. _This pill is for your headache_ he'd say every time and Hutch wondered if his partner had got them mixed up-- because the headaches always came back. Striking fiercely like a shot in the night, they took him down mercilessly. Sometimes the pounding made him forget to breathe and Starsky might shake him gently …_Breath, buddy,_ he'd say.

His memories started and stopped with her.

It wasn't like he didn't know who he was supposed to be. He had remember that he had apartment…on Venice Place and that he was a police detective, but all the feeling connected to those hollow memories were vacant cut outs of the life he used to have. Sure, he remembered Captain Dobey— the sound of his booming tongue lashings, but… he couldn't remember what he liked or didn't like about the man. Virtually unable to revoke what he had learned all the years he had reported to the dynamic boss made Hutch very sad. The Dobey in his head was just a bold outline like in those children's coloring books-- a dark black outline--- no color inside. He was going to have to get to know Harold Dobey all over again.

With Starsky it was different. Memories of him were all vibrant colors and sensations. What was missing in points of reference and details was all there in feelings and connection.

Whereas, the memories of the life he had with _her_ were vividly charged. Every single day with _her_ mapped out clearly inside his head. Sharing his life with Sonora felt very real. Not only that--something felt good about it.

He missed it.

That thought alone illustrated how much trouble he was really in. And it always made him nauseous.

Hutch wished he was stronger. Wished he could take some of the pressure off Starsky who spent his days worrying about him. But, every time he thought he might be OK –everything—past and present—truth and lie-- came rushing at him. Toppling his meager stability and unraveling his small bit of sanity.

Starsky looked rundown and worried and Hutch wouldn't add to his misery by telling him he was broken and maybe unfixable this time.

His biggest fear was that he had lost himself.

Forever altered.

Unable to return to his life – crushing Starsky's expectation of everything being like it was.

Couldn't let him down. So, Starsky mustn't know.

Absurdly, Hutch was also terrified that Sonora would _find _him and then Starsky would end up as one of those pictures Jay had showed him. Beaten…slaughtered and bloody.

What if he was powerless to fight her?

He did want to see her…

Maybe…just to hold her…

NO! NO! NO! NO! Hutch screamed silently, rebuking his thoughts.

He felt the arm drape over his shoulder.

"Pretty cold out here, ain't it?" Starsky paused for a minute. "Thinking bout her?" he asked without reproach.

Feeling ashamed again, Hutch didn't answer.

"Don't worry about it, partner," his best friend said as he gave him a gentle push of support.

o00000o

Hutch, a blanket wrapped around him startled Starsky when he stepped outside onto the wraparound porch. The tough New Yorker stood up wiping his face with the palms of his hands in an effort to hide from Hutch the fact that he was crying.

The feeble attempt didn't go unnoticed as Hutch walked up to him to get a closer look at Starsky's face and what it would tell him. The blanketed man reached a hand to turn the face to him only to have Starsky gently catch it in one of his.

"Don't misread this," Starsky said quietly, already determining that Hutch was heaping on the guilt about the moment of emotion Starsky was having. "Not what you think."

Hutch pulled to draw his hand back, but Starsky wouldn't release it.

"I'm grateful. That's all." The tears then did escape--racing down his face. Starsky no longer tried to hold them back. "She coulda killed you. I can't stop thinking about how you tried..." Now the words got stuck.

Hutch's eyes fell away from him. Neither one of them had yet to talk about Sonora's game --how she had pitted their lives against each other.

No one could understand how deeply the experience had wounded Starsky, except for his partner.

Hutch, not knowing what to say, thoughts spinning in his head--still trying to find the comfortable place between them, earnestly offered, "I'm-m, I'm sorry."

The words stung Starsky at once. He felt the blow first to his stomach and it forced him to let go of Hutch's warm hand.

"This whole friggin' nightmare is **not **your fault! Don't **ever** say that!" He felt out of control--his eyes clouded with the heat. Sonora had screwed up his friend so badly that Hutch was apologizing for giving up his life to save his partner's.

"_You_…_You_…" Starsky spat out. But, he couldn't explain to Hutch how he had felt every surge, counted every blow that Hutch had taken for him. How sometimes during the day, in a blur of vision or in a askew glance he could still see his best friend's body struck forward by the sting of the wooden staff—knowing _each_ and _every_ torturous blow was an expression of the love Hutch felt for him.

How could he repay--reconcile in his spirit _why_ Hutch had to endure such agony for him?

Nothing could bring balance to it…

…except --for his resolve to be a very present help _each_ and _every_ moment of Hutch's journey back to himself.

So, to hear Hutch apologize for his ultimate sacrifice hurt more than Hutch would ever know.

Starsky looked into the frightened face of his partner and calm immediately rested upon the angry cop.

His blowup was distressing Hutch with something neither one of them could change.

Now-- Starsky was the one who had to make the sacrifice… for his best friend—his brother...

Hutch was nowhere near strong enough to deal with the mountain that was Starsky's pain. There was no more time for self-pity, Starsky determined.

He made a gentle motion to straighten the blanket around Hutch's shoulders.

"Thank you, partner," Starsky said to him, raising a palm to rest on the side of his friend's face.

Hutch's vulnerability crackled on the surface of his spirit. The sight of it twisted Starsky's insides. His friend was hurting and needed him to be strong. Starsky let down his guard completely—to receive him.

Their eyes revisited the depth of the bond between them trust and love sprang forth and Starsky knew his own healing had begun.

Now his focus would be on Hutch's restoration.

An arm affectionately around his partner, Starsky steered him back inside. "You hungry? I think I'm gonna try something special tonight. Ya know, they got this big cookbook in the pantry—country style cooking. Whatd'ya say we try it out, huh? I'll let ya cut all the vegetables."

o00000o

_The sloshing noise was resounding as Hutch kept walking. Didn't know where he was going but felt driven to move quickly through the darkness. With one arm, he held the large glass jar tightly to his chest. Had to keep moving. Hot sweat trickled down his back and his lungs started to burn from the flat stale air around him._

_There was light ahead and he quickened his pace to get to it. He smiled as the light expanded on the ground in front of him. Just before he got into the middle of the glow-- the large jar slipped away. Crashing to the floor, the disembodied brain bounced and rolled in the green liquid and pieces of broken glass. _

The disgusting scene propelled Hutch out of the recurring dream. He blindly grabbed at his chest in an effort to wipe away the back splash of the liquid that wasn't there. Quickly jumping out of the bed, he knocked over a nearby table and the glass of water that was on it.

The noise startled Starsky out of his sleep and he pushed off the bedding that entangled his body – immediately making his way over to his distressed friend.

"Hutch," he said in a firm voice. Starsky knew the routine. Hutch would stare blankly off into the air, and then the tremors would start.

Starsky guided Hutch back to the bed, and gently pushed him down to sit on it. Keeping his eyes locked on Hutch, he tried to disengage the sheets that had trapped themselves around the long legs.

He placed a hand to the side of Hutch's face and turned it around for observation.

"Hutch," he said again to the empty stare.

Starsky sighed. Gathering the bedding and his arms around his malleable partner, he scooted both of them back against the headboard of the large bed.

He didn't panic like he had the first time, when he had made the urgent call for help to the doctor Jay had told him to call only in an emergency.

The old doctor had told Starsky when Hutch got like this, he needed to know he wasn't alone. Starsky held on to his best friend and told him about Melanie Synder. She was the very first girl he had a crush on. He talked about how his uncle had taken him out in the middle of the night to an empty supermarket parking lot to teach him to drive and how a very excited young David Starsky still managed to crash into a row of neatly amassed shopping carts.

He told Hutch how important his friendship was to him. And he held him.

o00000o

Starsky had spent the last few hours chopping wood. His clothes were drenched with sweat and he had long ago taken off the red and black checked jacket that restrained his full range of motion as he swung the ax over and over and over. The fresh air and strenuous workout had been a much-needed retreat from what was going on indoors.

It had only been a few hours.

He tapped lightly on the bedroom door. Called out to Hutch to let him know he was going to start making lunch. "Any thing special you want?" No answer—but there was a noise coming from inside. Starsky listened quizzically to the odd thumping sound.

"Hutch?" Concern and a gnawing fear in his gut made him cautious as he gently pushed open the door.

It was dark— the sunlight that normally flooded the room was refused entry by the heavy blankets and quilts that Hutch had nailed into the walls around the large windows.

In the short time he had been attending to the firewood, the world inside the cabin had tipped its balance.

Starsky's eyes adjusted to the darkness to find his friend huddled in the far corner of the room. Starsky could hear the moans as Hutch thudded his blanket-draped head against the wall. Starsky moved quickly to slip a hand in between the hard surface and his best friend.

"_Hutch!"_ he said, stupefied by the behavior. "What! Wha…?" Dumbfounded and at a lost for words, Starsky's eyes filled with tears.

"Buddy?" he pleaded. Starsky tried to peer at his friend through the tight grip Hutch had on the blanket. He desperately needed to see his partner's face.

Hutch's groan in reply communicated it all. It told of his agony and something else that scared Starsky.

"T-t-oo m-much…" were the words that came from under the blanket.

"Too much light?" Starsky asked, hoping Hutch was talking about the light-- but knowing his suffering friend was talking about the pain. What else could have made him resort to banging in revolt at the demon inside his head?

"_Oh, Hutch,_" Starsky said. The fear in his voice authenticated his powerlessness to help his best friend. He needed to look at him. "Let me see ya, huh?"

Starsky worked at the grip for a few minutes and Hutch fought back to keep him out – to keep the light out—keep the pain out.

"Hutch? Let me…"

Trembling fingers dug into the blanket more tightly. "M-make it stop…stop," he groaned, banging his head more deliberately.

"No! That's my partner in there," Starsky scolded. "Come on," he added tenderly as he tried again to stop the self-punishment. "No!" Starsky slid behind his friend, his back to the wall. Drawing him into his arms, the dark-haired man looked through an opening in the covers his partner hid under. Hutch's eyes were red, wild with the madness of his anguish.

"Oh, Lord," Starsky said in response to the sight of the scarlet delirium that stared through him.

This was the torment that Jay had tried to tell him about.

Suddenly Starsky was terrified.

_Guns?_

Hutch would never do that --his soul told him. 

In his heart Starsky knew that was the truth. Hutch would never do that to him-- no matter how much he was hurting. He had already seen how much Hutch would endure for him. He had been a witness to it in that dungeon.

"Hey, buddy," Starsky said softly. "Come on. Let's get you back into bed." He gently tugged at the blanket.

"J—just stay her… Owww," Hutch moaned.

"Let me get your pills…"

"Don't w—oork…" Hutch cried.

"I don't know what to do," Starksy answered sadly. "How to help ya."

Powerless to help, for the remainder of the day, Starsky did what he could for his friend -- staying near, offering words of comfort, wedged between the wall and his partner. When darkness of night fell it found them to find them together… Starsky attending to his friend huddled under a blanket.

He didn't turn on a light, or make a sound. He just prayed for the moment when the agony would let up and the wild look would leave his partner's eyes.

o00000o

"Don't feel…so good today, par'nr," Hutch slurred.

"Your head's hurtin', huh? I don't think these pills are helping anymore."

"Uhmmm," Hutch groaned.

"What can I do for you? Tell me," Starsky asked in desperation.

"Stars…y-you did your best," Hutch whispered, his honey colored lashes glistened with the moisture of salty tears.

"Hey, don't give up on me yet, partner," Starsky begged.

"H-Hurts, too much," Hutch revealed as he groaned again.

o00000o

The old country doctor had visited on numerous occasions. He always brought a new medication and new hope. But it wasn't too long before Starsky found himself sitting across from the doctor, drinking coffee, and having the conversation the dark-haired cop had dreaded.

There wasn't anything else the elder could offer to bring relief to his ailing friend. Modern medicine was throwing in the towel, leaving Starsky alone to figure out which prescriptions were providing his friend with even the smallest amount of easement.

Starsky's devastation was obvious and the older man quietly told him _both of them_ had been in his prayers every night. The declaration by the senior with the poker face—he had been praying for him and Hutch, sounded out of character coming from his mouth.

With the exception of his first visit, no matter how many times the doctor had been up to the little cottage, his imperturbable demeanor had kept a proper distance from Hutch's caretaker.

The implications of the end of the road diagnosis shifted things between them. Hutch's condition had uprooted the two men—depositing the senior and the dark-haired cop into a sacred place.

The place in between miracle and misery.

"Guess, maybe I…I should take 'im back to the hospital. I don't know." Starsky was sullen as he wondered out loud.

Crooked fingers covered one of the worried cop's hands. The older man gave Starsky a smile imbued with the wisdom of 87 years of living and told him, "You're doing a good job. No tellin' what God has in mind. It's all up to him now."

He also assured Starsky, Hutch wouldn't benefit from any treatment a hospital had to offer and certainly would not receive _better care_ than what Starsky was providing him with.

So in the woods is where they would stay.

Hiding...

praying…

…and waiting for a harvest of miracles.

(tbc)


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER 12-END **

**(Reposted this chapter on 3/3/09 -- as I noticed a good portion of it had gone missing)**

Lifted

Starsky didn't think that anyone had tried harder than Hutch to get better. All his efforts went unrewarded as the punishing cluster headaches intensified-- making it impossible for him to do much of anything but lay in bed. Plagued with nausea, Hutch couldn't keep a meal down. Starsky blended protein drinks and fresh fruit juices-- encouraging them into Hutch almost every few hours in an attempt to keep him as well as possible.

His partner was weak and no longer able to go for walks. So, Starsky made him do some exercises for bed-ridden patients he found in one of the medical books Jay had given them.

It was eating Starsky up. He didn't think he could take another day of watching his friend suffer. It was at this lowest point, the knock at the window confounding him, brought the answer to his prayers.

There stood Jay. Bushy-bearded and winking at him as he waved a hand of greeting to the pitiful Bay City cop. The wave was welcomed by the most grace-filled smile as Starsky motioned him to go to the front door.

Jay rushed to the door, eager to receive the rest of the warm reception that was waiting for him.

The bear hug lifted Jay off the ground and both got hearty pats on the back before they stood back to take good looks at each other. Starsky was the first to look away, well aware that Jay was measuring the hurt that was in Starsky's eyes and stamped on his face.

"You look like crap," was his new friend's honest assessment.

Making Starsky grin a little as he retorted, "Yeah, well you sure could pass for Grizzly Adams," while he gave a careful tug at Jay's beard.

oooo

Hutch's too bright eyes followed Jay into the chair by his bed. He made an effort to give Jay a smile, fondly saying his name in a voice wrecked by illness.

"Yeah, man, it's me," Jay said warmly, taking the raised hand. The visitor moved into the intimate space that chronic illness reserves for those coming to pay respects.

Both Jay and Hutch were a little teary, as Hutch got right to business. He captured Jay's eyes with his and brought them to rest on Starsky, who stood away from them in the doorway.

Starsky didn't miss the subtle gesture of his blond partner relinquishing his best friend into Jay's care in the chance of Hutch's passing. It choked him up but he chose to lighten the mood by yelling over to the bed-ridden man, _"I'm right here, you know."_ Forcing a genuine laugh out of Jay, who, nodding a promise to Hutch, said, "Don't you worry about him."

Jay went on, "Right now, we gotta work on your problem." Out of nowhere a small black bag appeared and, Jay, with care began examining Starsky's ailing partner.

When he had finished, he rubbed a comforting hand on Hutch's chest and instructed him to try and rest.

oooo

They sat on the living room floor side by side, backs to the wall, the bottle between them.

"The medicine stopped helping about a week ago," Starsky said as he twisted his face in response to the kick of the shot of liquor hitting the back of his throat.

Jay tipped the prized bottle of Scotch whisky he had brought with him to re-fill Starsky's glass.

"You trying to get me drunk?" Starsky asked, already sounding a bit loose.

"Looks like you could use it," Jay said.

"So…" Starsky said, bringing the conversation back to his sick friend. "You weren't surprised about Hutch's condition."

"No. Kinda expected it," Jay said flatly.

"And?" Starsky wondered.

"I might have something," Jay said with so much uncertainty that it caused Starsky to turn to him.

Starsky, in the short time he had known Jay, had come to trust him fiercely but this was the first time Starsky had seen him look rattled.

"What's wrong?" Starsky asked, getting serious as he sat up.

"Man, it's a raw deal," Jay sounded bitter. "I just wish _for once_--something could be easy. Like you know in the movies. Everything always gets so neatly wrapped up in a bow-- just before the credits go up. So the heroes can go riding off into the sunset…"

Starsky was beginning to think he didn't want to know what Jay was keeping from him.

The ex-spy, slipped a hand inside his jacket and held out a small bottle to Starsky. "_This_ is _supposed _to stop those damn headaches that are killing your partner…so that he could go back to eating and sleeping like a regular person."

Jay squeezed the bottle in his hands. "_These_ are _supposed to be_ the magic pills that will put an end to all that misfiring going on in his brain, relieve some of that pressure … so he can start thinking again…maybe remember who he is…"

"What's going on here?" Starsky interrupted Jay, stopping the tirade that Jay was headed for.

There was no answer except for Jay's expression changing into an angry red palette.

Jay abruptly flung the bottle across the room--smashing the plastic container against the wall and sending the little pills rolling in different directions around the room.

Starsky looked horrified, trying to memorize where every little white pill had rolled as they traveled speedily out of sight. "_Why_ did you do that? _What's wrong with you?"_ he hollered at Jay.

The loud words got through and Jay stood up, too. "Oh, shit!" he said. Dropping to their knees, both Jay and Starsky crawled around the room trying to find the precious medicine.

oooo

"How many ya got?" Starsky questioned, spreading the six pills he had found on the table.

"I got four," Jay said in a sober voice, still looking under the couch in the living room. "That's three more."

"Thirteen. Right?" Starsky asked for the fourth time.

"Yes. Thirteen," Jay said, his voice muffled by the wall and couch as he'd positioned his head there to look for any hidden magic potion.

"Right, Right. Thirteen," Starsky said to himself, returning to his search.

oooo

"Wow. I don't know what happened there. Guess I lost it, huh?"

Starsky just shook his head, smiling back at him and looking at the thirteen pills on the table before them. A lifeline for Hutch— divine intervention in all its glory. He thought the pills, strangely iridescent in the muted light, were the most beautiful things he had ever laid eyes on.

Jay wouldn't look at him.

Starsky stared down at the pills and back up at his bearded friend.

There was an unanswered question hanging in the air.

A light bulb turning on in Starsky's head verbalized it. "Are these gonna help Hutch or what?"

Jay did look at him when he began talking, "You know, the guy who designed these is probably a lot smarter than Sonora's creep doctor. He's spent years of his life…hours of dedicated research, late nights--cost him a marriage, two actually. There's not another researcher out there who knows more about the kind of experimental drugs used on Ken, but…"

Starsky was now going to find out why Jay was acting so skittish.

"_Yes_. These are the pills that could start healing the neurological damage done to Hutch like it did for three out of ten patients who had the same diagnosis as him _or_…he could end up like the other bunch of seven folks."

"What happened to the other seven?" Starsky already knew he wasn't going to like the answer. But, he asked the question again, "What_ happened _to the other seven?"

"Starsk, three of them didn't see any improvement at all, that's not good. Two got worse and…" he didn't have to finish.

Starsky got it. Explained why Jay had blown up. He might very well be bringing _death _and not life. "Two died." he stated flatly.

Jay kept talking. "He has to take these--one a day-- it's a 13 day dose. First thing in the morning -- gotta make sure there's something in his stomach. Now he's gonna run a high fever while he's on it-- and we're gonna need to make sure he drinks lots of water, fluids.

He's gonna be out of it. It's got an antiemetic for nausea in it --which will help him to keep it down. The drug is designed to create a sequence of chemical activity to bring back some normalcy to his body's…" The look on Starsky's face halted Jay and he changed the direction of his narrative.

"These pills –- science at it's best. There's nothing anywhere like 'em. 30 compounds working in synergy. Each element's got an assignment--this shouldn't be possible--but there are thousands of hours of experimental…

Starsky fired off. "And Hutch is the lab rat!"

Jay frowned thoughtfully, "No. He's a man-- with a broken body and spirit. Nobody has forgotten that. But, this pill is serious business. It's designed to perform some complicated cellular sequencing —_**if**_ Hutch's system is still in good enough working condition to cooperate…_that's_ the x-factor here. I'm not bringing you something that's science fiction. _All right?"_

The explanation got an apologetic nod from Starsky.

"Dave, the brain controls all the body's functions not just emotions and thoughts-- we're talking heart rate, BP, fluid balance… temperature. All the instructions are passed through these signals – right now, Hutch's body is getting all misinformation. It's compromised--putting extra stress on his organs. _This drug_ should…help put things back in order. Now, he's still gonna

have some challenges…but you gotta understand, once we start it-- things get set in motion…we're attempting to do some re-wiring here. There's no stopping the dosage--_thirteen days_. That's the prescription. Understand?"

Starsky looked sick as he acknowledged he understood.

Dispirited, Starsky asked, "How did the other two die?"

"Dave, we're not gonna talk about that anymore. It won't change anything," Jay said solemnly, ending that part of the discussion for Starsky's own good.

"Look, Hutch, don't even have to take this stuff," Starsky replied heatedly.

"Let's ask him," Jay said. "Let him decide," he added quietly.

Jay imagined that he had just cleverly interceded and blocked Starsky

from having to make the impossible decision as to whether or not Hutch should be given the powerful medicine.

oooo

"Hey, buddy. Hear me?" Starsky asked, picking up Hutch's hand in his and then bringing them both to lie on his friend's chest just above the beating heart. Starsky wanted to feel the source of Hutch's life under their joined hands.

Hutch's glazed eyes were on him, confirming that he was listening.

"You know…I… gotta make a decision about something," Starsky told him.

The softly spoken sentence brought Jay's head up with a jerk. He wasn't surprised that Starsky would not relinquish the difficult life and death decision to his weakened friend. It would have been completely out of character for the courageous man to take the easy way out. Allowing Hutch in his confused state of mind to try and weigh it all would have been beyond cruel.

Starsky spoke calmly as he explained to Hutch about the medicine that Jay had brought with him. And about the risk and dangers involved. He told Hutch that _he_ needed some time to think about what _they _should do and that Jay would stay right there with him for a little while. Starsky sat for a few minutes until Hutch closed his eyes receiving the restless sleep that was waiting for him.

With Hutch now sleeping, he signaled Jay over, giving him Hutch's hand and the chair he had been sitting in. Then Starsky gave Jay's shoulder a thankful squeeze as he left the room.

Starsky didn't need time to decide about giving Hutch the pills. He just needed time to let it settle in him. He called Dobey, the man who would need to know what was going on with 'his boys.' There was no way he could go through with this without telling Harold and Edith Dobey. They had loved him and Hutch too much.

Dobey told Starsky that he would handle the Hutchinsons… wasn't sure what he would tell them, but he would handle them.

It no longer mattered to Starsky about Sonora tracking them down. Hutch was going to need his friends- old ones and new ones to help him through the last part of this journey. If the temptress from the depths of Hades traced their location through calls Starsky was going to make… and come stepping up cabin steps like she had last time—then she better be ready to kill him. Starsky would make sure the first round he fired would plunge straight through her wicked heart.

A choked up Dobey had said, "David, I'm so sorry. You know… you two are like my own."

The emotion expressed from the normally gruff man made Starsky's heart warm, and he said, "I know, Cap'n."

Then he put the phone close to Hutch's ear. He could almost see the love of the encouraging words from Harold and Edith wrap up his partner in their consoling glow.

Then he called Huggy who made a smile come to Hutch's face. Huggy – had a way of doing that even in the most dire of times.

Starsky had to call August. She had given all of herself to save his partner's life. He waited patiently for her to try and stop crying before she spoke to the man she had helped rescue. But then decided her tears were a genuine expression of love, and certainly there was not a better time to be genuine than now.

13 Days

In the morning of the first day, Jay had helped Starsky get Hutch into a bath. They changed the bed with fresh linen and Starsky took down the heavy curtains that were hiding Hutch from the world. Starsky wanted to let in the sun's light and give Hutch a full view of the beautiful sky with it's various shades of blues and pinkish fat clouds.

He towel dried the fine hair and helped him into clean pajamas. He made him toast and eggs scrambled with cheese. Starsky gave him two glasses of milk. One glass before the first white pill he placed in his mouth at the end of the breakfast meal, and then another glass after.

He slipped into the bed, and pulling him up close, he laid Hutch's head against his chest.

The vigil had begun. Thirteen days. Possibly the last days. Starsky would make sure that his friend, his _best _friend, his brother…_his blood _would have all the comfort, and love that his partner could provide.

o00000o

Hutch tried to hide the fact he was crying by mashing his tears into Starsky's shirt as he pressed his face into it. He denied the tears vitality by aborting them in their infancy, but Starsky's wet shirt was testimony of their short life.

It was only the third day and Hutch was in so much pain he was enraged. He was tired of it all-- had reached his end. He knew Starsky loved him but, right now, he wished his friend would just let him go!

The medicine was burning up his insides and it felt like angry fingers were digging around in what was left inside his head. He gasped for air, which seemed to evaporate before it could fill his lungs.

_Oh, God! Oh, God!_

He couldn't do this. Hutch felt Starsky holding him.

_Wasn't enough!_

He wanted this to stop.

Hutch arched his body, trying to push himself away and out of the bed. But Starsky wouldn't let him go.

"Good! You're mad. That's it, boy. You stay angry. _Keep fightin'!_" Starsky told him.

"No. No more! Don't-don't want it!" he roared back. Begged, "S-s-starsk, _p-p-please!"_

His friend's arms restrained him. "I know. I know," Starsky spoke into his ear.

Starsky searched Jay's face for help. _"Is it gonna be like this?_" his eyes asked.

Unable to offer any help, Jay looked away. The sorrow showing, he didn't know the answer to the unspoken question.

o00000o

"_Go back to Bay City, Stars?_ How can you tell me to do that," Starsky gently admonished the mumbled plea Hutch had uttered. "What? Without you! Now that's the craziest thing you've said. You know I ain't gonna leave ya, Blintz. 13 days—that's 24 hours per. Me and you, like always." Starsky swallowed hard as he fought to keep his wits intact. "Bet you were a sweet kid, huh, Blintz. Sea scout—helping grandmothers cross the street. I bet you wuz a safety guard. _Me _-- I was terrorizing the neighborhood. I ever tell you that?"

Hutch shrank into Starsky's arms and Starsky hesitated his story to draw his friend tighter. "It's all right, I'm right here…just the medicine." Hutch twisted his body back and forth, letting out the moan he was no longer able to restrain.

On the fifth day, Starsky wouldn't finish his story when, in just a few more minutes later, Hutch could no longer hear his words. The pain had shut him down.

o00000o

It was around the sixth day after Hutch was bathed, and the bed changed that Jay recognized what Starsky was doing. He didn't know if it was unconscious or deliberate but Jay had been all over the world and knew a ritual when he saw it.

Starsky was preparing Hutch's body for the possible journey into eternity-- respecting his right to die in dignity if he was one of those two in ten. It was sad and honorable and Jay wished he could have had the revelation on day number 13 when all this was over with.

o00000o

"Starsssh?"

"Yeah, right here."

Hutch's misery-filled contemplative gaze worried Starsky. "Hutch?"

Laboring to speak, Hutch asked his devoted friend, "Wha-what if it-it doesn't work?"

Starsky grasped his hand tightly, assuring him, he answered, "It's gonna work."

It was time for solemn conversation and Starsky readied himself for the direction his partner might be taking it.

"What-what if-if I don't…I don't make it?"

"Ahh, Hutch. You're gonna make it. C'mon…"

"What 'd do?" Hutch weakly persisted with his line of questioning.

"C'mon, Hutch…" Starsky's tone was a plea to end the examination.

"N-No. No." Hutch, in spite of his suffering, would not relent. "I- I _need_, n-need to know, Stars-s. What-what would y-y-you do?"

There was quiet as Starsky gave the question all his consideration. Hutch deserved an answer.

"All right,"yielding, he told Hutch, "I'd take a leave of absence and… ahhh --visit your parents for awhile…hmmm… then _take off_, I don't know-- for the mountains maybe…and probably marry the first lady I run in to who…could see how much I was hurtin'…" Now looking down as if he could almost feel his friend's absence, "…name a couple of kids after ya…" he added.

It was quiet again until Starsky looked back up at Hutch for his reaction. "OK?" he asked.

"OK." Hutch smiled tiredly, giving his approval to the plan. His weakened voice questioned, "What if they're girls?"

"Don't matter," Starsky promised.

o00000o

Day 9

Hutch was out of his mind in pain and Starsky out of his with worry.

Hutch's insistent groans throughout the day were recorded in Starsky's psyche for playback in his nightmares. Starsky rocking him was all he could offer Hutch in comfort. Finally, late in the evening, the torment subsided and Hutch fell into a deep exhausted sleep.

Hours later he woke, his gaze to weak to hold onto Starsky. It listed off to the side and then rolled upwards in a furtive prayer.

Starsky had raised himself up then and Jay witnessed the storm overtake the detective as he turned on him.

Rushing toward him, the cop pinned Jay against the wall. "DO SOMETHING!" he demanded, his voice cracking with the ultimatum.

An entrapped Jay looked into Starsky's eyes and reminded him, "Dave, we-we can't stop the medication. I told you…"

Showing his desperation, Starsky pounded a fist against the wall nearby, dropping his head in defeat he moved away from Jay. Tension pulsing through him, he made his way to the door, but was unable to leave the room... and Hutch. He was grounded there, hunkered in the doorway.

The sound of Huggy's voice filling the room was a puzzlement.

The barkeeper's distinct voice was booming out of the cassette player Jay had in his hand. Holding it up gallantly— like he was soliciting the intervention of some ancient mythical Greek god. The sight of his mighty stance drew Starsky's intent introspection as he listened.

"_**Nobody--I mean nobody- would believe me if I told 'em-- everything you guys been through. Man, I can't wait till you guys retire and your autobiography comes out 'bout your lives as super cops... Wonder whose gonna play me in the movie. I seen this cat Lou Gossett, Jr,-- now he's a pretty good actor. 'Course, I gotta teach 'im some of my moves, but… he just might work. Anyway, bros, it's a trip, though, if you think about it, man. Every time sumpthin', happens I'm thinkin' this is the one… No way they're getting outta that one. And –wham! it's like you cats just bounce right back…"**_

Jay had put on his best disguise when he had made the fifty-mile drive to the neighborhood post office to pick up the precious cargo of the express-mailed cassette tapes that Starsky had asked the Dobey's, Huggy, and August to make and send for him to play to Hutch.

Starsky, who may not have studied psychology, Jay thought, had put his finger right on it when he said he wanted to drown out Sonora's and Dr. Archelaus's voices that must be playing over and over inside his partner's head.

Hutch had never told him he heard voices but it was real smarts on Starsky's part to make the assumption that those voices were in there--dragging his friend down, down, down. Jay felt it showed Dave knew exactly where to fight this war to win back his dearest friend.

So, they all made tapes. It was on that fifty-mile ride _back_ to the cabin, that Jay had time to listen to the people who loved these two guys talk about the legacy of their lives and their friendship. When he heard the words that he was now blasting into Starsky, he was certain that _they_ needed to be played at just the right time… and the time was now.

It was the best weapon he had to revitalize the fight in Starsky.

Huggy went on to talk about all the trials and tribulations that his friends had faced and conquered. He talked about how much people in the neighborhood respected them for being fair, tough cops-- everybody knew that.

"_**I've yet to see anything beat you guys. I don't think anything could beat ya. Man, together-- one thing I know for sure - You two…you guys are indestructible! Yeahh- indestructible… that's the word from me and that's the word on the street."**_

Jay didn't have to look up at Starsky to know that the words had birthed renewal in him. He could feel it.

Starsky, trying to regain his control, shifted his body in the doorway. He turned to face Jay, who nodded in agreement-- _you guys can do this._

Starsky used a sleeve to wipe the fresh tears off his face as he made his way back to Hutch.

He sat in his place by the bed.

Stroking hair off the hot forehead, angling his body closer to Hutch he said, "Ya hear that? Huggy thinks we're indestructible."

Hutch's eyes were closed but Starsky could swear he was smiling.

o00000o

The heated body in his arms delivered the incoherent soliloquy with half slit eyes--directly to Starsky. Starsky, too afraid to speak--distraught that Hutch was telling him goodbye--kept silent. Afraid to speak and mistakenly give Hutch permission to leave him. When Hutch raised the volume of his agitation, Starsky, resisting the panic inside, shook his head, emphatically repeating over and over, "_No. No. No. No. No…"_

Starsky tightened his hold on his feverish friend.

He would not release him. Couldn't release him.

"No…n-need you. _No,_" he said firmly.

The words quieted Hutch.

o00000o

Sunrise

"14th day, buddy. Come on now. Don't make me wait any longer. Hutch? I'm about to lose it, pal. Come on, Hutch," Starsky, fatigued, sighed heavily. "Don't worry. It's OK. I'm here. Whenever you're ready." Starsky carefully tended to the tangled mess of his partner's white golden hair. "Hutch." He sadly pleaded.

The fingers…moving--the first sign.

Starsky, his heart galloping, raised his head to watch the slight motion of the hand he was holding. The dark haired man reached out and rubbed his thumb gently over Hutch's knuckles to welcome his friend's effort to respond to him.

Next--would be some expression-- showing the discomfort, just like the frown of pain forming on Hutch's face. The fight to stay in the darkness was losing ground.

A grin started to form on the vigilant watcher who waited patiently another half-hour for more stirrings from his friend.

An exhausted Starsky answered the uttered groan. "That's it, Hutch. That's it, buddy Don't fight it. You--you gotta come back, partner." He encouraged as he massaged strength into a struggling shoulder. The words practically catching in his throat as he tried hard to remain calm—Hutch was coming back to him.

Hutch was still for the next hour and then the whole sequence started again with twitching fingers and urges from Starsky to wake up.

The wiped out cop rubbed at his burning red eyes. Dumbstruck and dizzy, Starsky leaned back in the chair. _Please. Please. _

He tipped the chair back to the floor and looked down to find his partner's eyes on him. The dark-haired man almost fell over as he bounded forward at Hutch's bewildered grimace.

"Hey." Emotion seized his voice and Starsky turned his face away, hoping to stop the onslaught of feelings that were hitting him hard.

They had made it.

He turned back to the weary gaze on him and gave his partner a toothy reception. He attentively touched his friend's face and Hutch closed his eyes in response to the spirit filled moment.

Hutch opened his eyes-- they searched the room around him and came to rest on the brilliant sunrise outside. The colors of the glorious sight spilled onto the white sheets and onto them.

It was beautiful. Neither one of them spoke a word.

Starsky, by nature, a talkative man knew the moment didn't require another word of encouragement. God had given him back his brother and it was too awesome. His soul was rejoicing – nothing on this side of heaven could come close to expressing that.

He saw the muscles in Hutch's face soften as he marveled at the sight he had awoken to --- his friend by his side. They watched the sun lift up to meet the day. It was taking them up, too.

They had survived six months, two weeks and 13 days of hell. All manner of evil had come after them.

But, on this morning, they were sharing a moment in heaven. Healing and the sun's golden rays blessing two hearts, two souls--brothers and best friends.

Blood.

ooooo

it's the end

so it would seem…

23


End file.
